


Seeing Fire and Lionhearts in the Night

by mamamittens



Series: Painting Folded Cranes [3]
Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, F/F, F/M, I'm not a medical expert, M/M, Past Abuse, Seer OC, Violence, a lot of blood, anemia, technically a side story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 18:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10905159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamamittens/pseuds/mamamittens
Summary: Can I be stopped? The answer is no, no I can't.Iris Stone lives an interesting life. When she isn't letting Missy, her best friend/roommate/sister-in-all-but-blood, mother her about her health, she works in the library and looks at the future. Literally. Sometimes with less than pleasant side effects (I.E. nose bleeds). But she can't always control it and sometimes she needs to use it. Like when Missy's future beau is going to be dusted. That needs to be stopped. If only she had looked a little bit longer, she'd see what sort of consequences her actions would have. A bit late now, though.Grillby runs a bar. That's all he does. If it wasn't so messy, he'd keep order the same way he used to underground (through straight up murdering the poor idiots that trouble him). But he's a bit short on staff and needs someone new to fill the vacancy that his niece insists exist. That spitfire human that came in would do nicely, but it seems she didn't get the memo. No one opposes Grillby. Come hell or high water, he WILL have a new server.Timeline runs along Colorful as Hell, but you don't NEED to have read it, to be honest. (Though some spoilers for Sketchy as Hell and Colorful as Hell may appear).





	1. Should Have Looked a Little Longer

            I can’t _believe_ the amount of tissue paper I go through sometimes. I gripped the edge of the sink, tipping my head forward to allow the blood to flow down the drain. I know that if Missy were to see me right now, she’d freak out and drown me in tissues. But it had to be done. I was _tired_ of taking up her time without paying her back for all she’d done for me. Her and her family. They were the first ones to actually _look_ at me. The only, and I mean _only_ , reason I was still alive today. I took a deep breath through my mouth and glanced into my reflection.

            Pale was the first word typically used to describe me. Too pale to be healthy, and they wouldn’t be wrong. Since I was borderline anemic, it was no wonder my friend was constantly concerned about my health. I never wore makeup unless forced to, the different foundation types always managing to make me feel… gross, for lack of a better word, even the powders felt weird on my skin. My white button up was crisp, having been ironed not an hour ago, not a single stain present, which was only possible through good fortune on some days. My thick brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail with bangs swept to the right almost reaching my chin. My blue eyes were sharp with determination despite the dark circles beneath them. Taking another fortifying breath, I closed my eyes and _looked_.

            I was thrown into a dark tunnel with flashes of ‘ _could be’_ and ‘ _what ifs’_ streaming by. The future was rarely set in stone, choices and random chance turned the die almost constantly. I knew that. But I didn’t expect Missy’s best chance at happiness to suddenly just _disappear_. I’ve never met him, but I knew his appearance by heart. A cat monster with tan fur and an expressive face, riddled with angst and sass for days. I looked beyond what I was _likely_ to see myself, trying to find the source of this disturbance.

            When I looked into the future, I’d see scenes. Flashes of the most likely possibility, usually from my own perspective with only sight and sound available. This is the easiest thing for me to see. Just beyond that, if I pushed, I could see the smaller possibilities. A little more difficult, but not strenuous. Nose bleeds occur when I try to push for too much, especially if it’s too fast. On a good day, that means trying for all five senses in a strong future. I will always bleed if I try and see something that I don’t witness myself in said future, which is more often than I like to admit. I don’t really _go places_ very often, unlike Missy.

            For months now I’ve been seeing a very strong future where Missy runs into a peculiar cat monster and they hit it off splendidly. Missy was always happy being with BP, I’d almost say happier than she was in any other future, with or without other significant others. But then, not thirty minutes ago, all of those happy futures went dark. No longer a strong possibility and faded with unlikeliness. And I wanted to know _why_. So I pushed, aware that, eventually, the source of the disturbance would reveal itself.

            This possibility was strong, colors sharp and clear as a bell chime. A bar appeared that I recognized through the occasional possibilities where Missy and I go drinking with BP. A surprisingly classy joint ruled by the iron fist of a fire monster named Grillby. BP, worn down and upset, drank away while complaining about his boss constantly mooning over a skeleton. Eventually, he settles his tab and walks home, only to find trouble not too far from the bar. Aggressive men with blunt weapons and an axe to grind against monsters. BP isn’t a slouch, but he was no match against the angry assault and was dust within a matter of minutes. It was horrible to watch and agonizing to hear someone I already considered a great friend die painfully.

            I was _pissed_. Murder? _Some two-bit thugs steal away my best friend’s happiness through murder_?! I looked frantically for some indication of when the murder would occur, finally finding my answer through a half-mumbled conversation near BP about a new episode of a popular TV show that the patron had seen the night before that, at present, was set to premier next week. So it would air the night before the murder would occur. The clock on the wall of the bar answered the approximate time. Ignoring the feeling of blood dripping out my nose, I searched for an answer. How do I stop it?

            I could call the cops? But subsequent possibilities suggested that I would be outed for my ability due to when I call to get the cops there in time and when it would actually occur. Looking around also suggested that it was unlikely to get help for BP from the local patrons. They were either too drunk or incompetent. Unbidden, the strongest possibility came to mind. _I_ could go myself.

            I wasn’t like Missy (who would quickly realize something was off if I tried to get her to go with me since I never go out willingly) who had an iron fist, capable of knocking a man out cold with a single punch. But through a manically healthy diet to offset my anemia, and almost two years of ‘softer’ exercise, I could take a beating. Missy personally found it frightening how high my pain tolerance was, and how willing I was to get back up after falling. Missy made me do three months of lightweight boxing for self defense training and watched as I, more often than not, waited out my opponents. I didn’t win all the time, but when I did, it was by tiring them out. Ducking the worst blows and hitting their ‘soft’ spots for maximum effect despite my weak punches. I… may or may not have technically cheated for those spars, but was it really cheating if I just… ‘saw’ them coming?

            If I didn’t need to breath so much, I would have laughed. Of course, _this_ would be the best option I’d get. I’d get a beating, but by the time BP would originally be dead, the thugs would no longer consider the fight worth it. An unfortunate side effect is that BP would insist on backtracking with me to Grillby’s bar and getting monster food to heal up quicker. Not _too_ bad, I suppose. I cut off my search at that point, satisfied with what I’d found. I opened my eyes again and grimaced.

            Blood coated my upper lip and the once immaculate white of the porcelain sink. By the time I rinsed away the blood, the bleeding had stopped, though my nose felt ragged still. Can’t be helped, I suppose. Carefully, I double check my shirt for blood, which there wasn’t any, and dusted off my pressed black slacks. If I waited any longer, I’d be late for work at the library. Not the most glamorous of jobs, but it paid the bills well enough when paired with Missy’s profession of personal trainer. Tidy black ballet flats softly padded across the floor as I grabbed my purse. There wasn’t a pressing need for a jacket in May.

            I scanned the apartment for any task left undone. The TV was off, so was the treadmill, and the wooden floors were clear of both clothes and dust bunnies. Missy, being as energetic as she is, often forgets about the little things, but I don’t. Good to know that she didn’t forget to turn off anything this morning. With I sigh, I closed the door and locked it before making the fifteen-minute walk to work. Thankfully, the weather was mild today, otherwise I’d need to use the spare shirt I have in my locker. Despite the close call, it looked like today would be a good day. Missy would even bring brownies home this evening as a reward for maintaining my good health, well, for the most part. Just as I knew she would when I decided to do one hundred pushups every day starting last month, even though it always made me feel tired afterwards.

\--Burgerpants will never escape his cruel nickname…--

            He liked working for Mettaton nowadays, really, he did! The early days were shitty, sure. He needed a job and Mettaton was someone he really identified with. Full of anxiety and rage over his body, which, as a teenage cat monster, was something BP could understand. But that new body was so hard for Mettaton to control back then. BP often walked away from work with bruises after trying to help his boss after yet another anxiety attack, triggering his own in return. But then the little dude came along and BAM! Everything is better. Mettaton finally found his groove, started talking to his family, and BP no longer worried about being wacked by an errant arm or singed with fire.

            He would _never_ want to trade his current life for anything. But… there was _one_ little thing he wanted. More than a raise. More than for Mettaton’s fans to get a grip on reality, or at least manners, even! It was for Mettaton to stop whining to him about his crush on a certain tall skeleton. He couldn’t even _think_ of the name anymore without getting a headache. He didn’t care how Mettaton moved on at this point! He was a manager, sure, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could _manage this walking disaster_! And so he drank at the one place he knew he wouldn’t be bothered.

            Grillby’s bar. BP had yet to find another bar in this damn city that was as calm as Grillby’s place. He knew full well why, too. You don’t survive the underground as it slowly went to hell, and _not_ get a bad-ass reputation. _Especially_ when you built up a reputation of taking _not a single shit from monsters_. Grillby had LV for days, BP knew he did. The days of murdering troublemakers for presuming to fuck with your territory may be over, but Grillby didn’t carry himself like a man restrained. Most nights, he seemed downright comfy. He rarely bothered making drinks or serving customers, instead preferring to subtly remind the patrons not to fuck with his establishment from an upstairs balcony. Grillby’s niece, Fuku, tended the bar, Ollie (a rebel without a cause) serving drinks and food, and he wasn’t entirely sure who made the food. They never left the kitchen. If it were any other bar, he’d wonder how the small staff managed. But while it may get rowdy with drunks, all it takes is for Grillby to walk the floor for everything to calm down again.

            Sighing, BP reached into his pocket to pay his tab, plastic card catching the light when he handed it over to Fuku. The pale blue fire monster nodded and charged the total sum before handing it back with a receipt. He was a bit of a lightweight, so his night out wouldn’t cost him much. Despite being a bit dizzy, he knew he could make it home just fine.

            “Thanks, Fuku, you’re such… such a great listener.” BP slurred, carefully making his way out the bar.

            “Can’t believe they left poor Gabrielle like that! What a cliffhanger!” a drunk mumbled into his drink as BP passed by. BP vaguely recalled the character name from a TV show he watched on occasion. Must have aired a new episode. Despite the warm summer, nighttime in the city was cool. Enough so that he felt refreshed, even with the weak breeze ruffling his fur. It was only a block away when it happened. A hand jerked him sideways into an alleyway, the world tilting and shaking as he crashed into the concrete ground.

            “Hey, hey, hey! What’s the… the big d-deal?” BP muttered, sitting on his ass to look up at three armed humans. They each had only a blunt weapon, but their expressions were thunderous. BP was no stranger to fights. He’d been in plenty of scrapes, but intent was key and for humans, that was all they needed. The world seemed to move around, aggressive slurs being thrown his way, chased by the solid weight of a bat to his head. He clawed out, catching _something_ soft and he heard a curse. He hissed and struck out again, missing this time. Something hard and metallic drove the air from his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.

            Metal glinted in the light of an old streetlamp as it was raised high to strike down on him. Before it could, the human holding it jerked as though struck. He watched blearily as a much smaller silhouette grabbed what looked like a crowbar from the human and tossed it far out of sight. He thought it was stupid until he saw the newcomer get laid out with a punch. Distantly, he felt bad for the new guy, until he saw them get back up and strike again. They got in several hits before getting clipped with the bat. In short order, they took the bat and threw it away too, but not before hitting the third human’s hand and sending what looked like another bat sailing into the air and onto the rooftops. Impressive, despite only being two stories tall.

            Things got blurry for a bit, but he _definitely_ knows he saw he human get the shit beat out of them. The new guy refused to stay down though. He was actually rather surprised when the three gave up the assault.

            “F-Fuck it! I didn’t sign up for this!” one stuttered, clutching his ribcage. The second agreed and forced the third to go too. The newcomer panted, leaning against the brick wall.

            “S-Shit… A-Are you… hah… are you alright?” a feminine voice asked in breathy tones. Understandable, but he really didn’t expect _a lady_ to get beat down for him.

            “You’re asking _me_ that?” he asked incredulously, feeling less buzzed compared to before as he slowly stood up. His eyes adjusted now, he could see the human was pale and bruised, a nice soft blue button up marred with blood. Dark brown hair spread wildly around their face, obscuring their eyes, but not their bleeding nose. He walked over to them and pulled one arm over his shoulder, “W-We need to get some monster food. C’mon, lady.” He knew Grillby had some, or at least the ability to make it.

            “T-That’s really not necessary. I-I’ll be fine…” he snorted, eyeing the slowly thinning flow of blood coming from her nose.

            “Yeah… not happening.” He was glad she didn’t fight him after that. His health was down by a third and his head hurt like a _bitch_. When he pushed the door to the bar back open he was surprised to see Grillby walking the floor. The purple fire monster snapped his head to them. He didn’t look terribly impressed to see them. BP couldn’t blame him. They looked like shit. “Hey, Grillby… got jumped. You wouldn’t happen to have some monster food, would you?” BP asked politely. Grillby lowered his reflective glasses and peered at them with pale blue eyes before raising them again.

            “Yeah… more than enough to fix your mangy ass.” He tipped his head towards the door to the balcony, “Follow me. You can tell me what the fuck happened while you wait.” Grillby stated, not asking. If there was trouble brewing around his bar, he probably wanted to keep an eye on things, BP figured.

\--FIRE MAN!—

            Grillby prided himself on running a smooth business. Even before they were freed, his bar ran like a well oiled machine. To do that in the underground, you have to be perceptive and intimidating as hell, not to mention able to follow through. BP was an unusual monster. The young monster didn’t come in often, but he never left without paying his tab, something Grillby liked about the kid. So, imagine his surprise when BP left only to return twenty minutes later. Beat up and with a human woman in tow that looked like she had been saved by a surprisingly brave BP. That is, until he saw the proud glint in her eye, peering out from behind a curtain of dark hair. That wasn’t the look of a victim saved. That was the look of someone that may have lost the fight, but left plenty of scars. He could respect that.

            His upstairs office was rather sparse. Only bearing a desk, chair, couch, and a small table. Usually, he did paperwork up here while keeping an eye on things below. The clean lighting perfect for reading through financial documents. Now, the lighting allowed him to get a better look at the two. BP was injured, likely a head injury based on the gray dust clinging to his ears. The woman, dressed in slacks and a pale blue button up (which he didn’t expect considering the usual attire of human females in the area), looked more like she had entered a boxing match. BP set them both down on the couch and Grillby brushed the woman’s hair out of the way to get a better look at her face. She was bleeding from her nose at some point, but oddly enough, he couldn’t see any sign of her being hit there. Definitely punched on the left cheek though, at least once. Awfully pale too.

            “Three humans jumped me a bout a block away, sir. They got in two hits before she came outta nowhere. Tossed their weapons away, one by one, and I was pretty out of it but I think she got them good. I know she was knocked down several times, but she just kept getting back up. Eventually they gave up and ran. Ain’t never seen anything like it.” BP told him in wonder as Fuku brought up a plate of monster food and drinks. Grillby looked at the woman in consideration. Impressive. But she clicked her tongue and looked away, cheeks a little red.

            “You didn’t deserve what they were trying to do, dude. ‘Sides, unless they busted my head open, they weren’t going to kill _me_ with a few whacks with a crowbar. I just had to make them… reconsider.” She said roughly. BP grinned around a bite of a donut, swallowing it down to speak.

            “Name’s BP, lady.”

            “Iris. Pleasure to meet you. Even under… less than ideal circumstances.” She replied. BP nodded and Grillby couldn’t help but think he needed another server. Fuku had been complaining about it lately and who better than this spunky human? Then he’d get to know all about the woman that would risk her life to save a stranger. And a monster at that… Okay, so that spark of… _something_ was also interesting. It had been a _very_ long time since anything had caught his eye.

            “Sure thing, but you better eat some. It won’t heal everything, but it’ll help.” Iris nodded and Grillby pretended to clear his throat.

            “I hope you understand that this is, in no way, free?” BP nodded and reached for his pocket but Iris beat him to it by smoothly pulling out a credit card. She arched her brow at BP while sipping delicately from a cup of golden flower tea.

            “Lady—Iris—if you think I’m letting you pay, _you have a concussion_.” BP growled, fur standing up. Grillby sat back and watched in amusement as Iris grinned ferally.

            “BP, sweetheart, I think _you_ have the concussion. And making financial decisions while addled so isn’t something that I, as a friend, can support.” She replied sweetly. This had to be the best thing he’d seen all night. BP looked shocked.

            “Friends? Oh, then as friends, I can’t possibly let you pay.” BP started, but Grillby cut him off.

            “Actually… If you work for me, Iris, consider this,” he waved his hand at the food, “… _discounted_.” BP looked like he was about to pass out in shock, but Iris was… less than impressed. He _almost_ said free, but he had a business to run. Blankly, she handed him her card.

            “Full price. Please.” That had to be the first time he’d been both denied and asked to have something full price… he felt more than heard the pops of fire in his mouth as he grinned. He always _did_ like a challenge.


	2. Missy, Resolutions, and Stalking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning, a panic attack does occur. It's just after she goes to bed, so if you're sensitive, be warned, okay? I don't think it's terribly triggering, but I just want to be sure. Oh, and I don't endorse stalking or 'informed research' by the way. But Grillby /is/ a fire monster who lived in an aggressive environment. COVERED IN SNOW. I'd be paranoid a lot too, if I was him.

            “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, IRIS?!” Missy screeched, having done a double take after I stumbled into the apartment, blond hair whipping around her face, “I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

            “Holy shit, Missy. Inside voice.” I pleaded, rubbing my face with my hands. The monster food _did_ help with the bruising. Now, rather than super fresh, they looked at least a week old. BP said that the healing process would be a bit faster for a few hours yet, but I wasn’t sure if it would all be gone or not. Didn’t seem worth the trouble to look.

            “You look like you were mugged, Iris! How can I not panic over that?” Missy fretted, chocolate eyes narrowed in concern as she inspected the faded bruise on my cheek, “I should have _known_ something was up! You _never_ want to leave the house! And it looks old, too? How the fuck?” she mused.

            “Sit down and I’ll tell you.” In a flash, she crossed the living room and vaulted over the couch to land perfectly on the cushions, legs crossed and everything. Show off. I took my time, feeling more than a few aches despite the monster food. It was _quite_ the walk to and from the bar. She was practically vibrating when I sat down, but I kicked off my shoes and removed my bloodied button up shirt, revealing a plain white camisole underneath.

            “Give me.” She demanded, making grabby motions with her hands, and I obliged, swinging my legs into her lap. She kneaded the sore muscles of my calves, “Well, go on!”

            “Alright, fine.” I sighed, “So, I was walking, right? And then I come across these three guys, beating the shit out of a cat. A cat monster to be specific, not sure if it still counts as animal abuse or not… huh. Questions for later, I guess. I intervened and you can see the result of that. Well, mostly. Dude, his name is BP, helped me to this bar he just left. Ran by a walking torch light named Grillby, yeah? A spooky purple color and everything, but he gave us monster food, which healed us up a fair bit. Still charged us, of course, but yeah… that’s what happened. I walked home afterwards, you screamed like a banshee, the end.” I said, looking cautiously at her face. She looked… _intrigued_.

            “Did you get his number?”

            “What?”

            “His number. BP, cat dude. Well, I guess fire man, Grillby, was it? Well, I guess he’d work too, but I want to know if it was worth saving his sorry ass or not.” Missy declared. I snorted.

            “ _No_ , I didn’t get his number.” _How else would I get to see his hilarious expression when you demand to know it after first meeting him_? “Why would I get his number. ‘Gee, BP, our first meeting was so memorable! May I have your phone number so we can enjoy remembering the time we were both beat all to hell with blunt objects by racist bastards’? Course I didn’t get his number. Good grief, you absolute heathen.” I sassed her, knowing she would only respond well to _that_.

            “And _you’re_ a fucking walnut! What if BP is… I don’t know, a complete asshat?! Then _you_ would have gotten ‘beat all to hell’ for an _asshat_! And I, as your best friend, would need to avenge you. _But oh, wait, **you didn’t get his fucking number**_! What are the odds you’ll run into him again, huh?” _Better than you think_. I leaned back my head and closed my eyes, laughing. All this excitement has _really_ taken it out of me.

            “You’re silly…” I murmured, feeling exhaustion wash over me.

            “Hey! Don’t fall asleep here! Go to your own fucking room!” she demanded, slapping my leg. I jolted a bit, using the momentum to swing my legs off the couch and start walking to the bathroom to clean up before going to bed.

            “Alright… night, Missy.”

            “Night, dork.” I huffed at the implication but went anyway. Washing my face helped keep me awake long enough to brush my teeth and change into comfy pajamas, but once my head hit the pillow, I was out.

\--Reasons to just not--

            _My chest was heaving, heart thumping loudly as the world sounded like it was made of static wrapped in cotton. Everything seemed both too big and too small for comfort. My nose bled profusely as I was attacked with so many possibilities at once. All I could hear was a mantra of panic and horror._ He found me. He found me. He found me. He _found_ me.

_Suddenly, my numb reality became warm. Almost too warm. Surprisingly strong arms were wrapped around me, grounding me to the present. A comforting crackle filled my ears, slowly but surely._

            _“Iris, flint-heart, what are you seeing? Who found you?” I looked up to find Grillby looking down at me in deep concern, dark glasses tipped down to reveal honestly troubled blue eyes._ I jerked awake, coughing up blood that had run down my throat after sleeping on my back. What the fuck was that?! What kind of nickname is ‘flint-heart’? Why did he seem to know my ability? I willfully ignored the welling of panic in my chest that didn’t originate from the thought of my secret being revealed. I needed to avoid that possible future at all costs. _For a lot of reasons_.

            Not that I was planning on growing close to the odd fire monster, but now I resolved to keep as much distance between the two of us as possible. That shouldn’t be too difficult. But… not I need to wash my blankets. Again. I looked down at my shirt, grimacing at how much blood was already there. Fuck. I look like I was murdered in my sleep… or _murdering_ in my sleep. Fucking hell, this sucks.

\--Now about that stalking thing—

            I wasn’t much for dresses, but this one was really nice. Dark purple with a sweetheart neckline and a band around the waist to separate a skirt with just enough poof to make it whimsical. I had spotted it in the window of a store on my way to work and stopped to admire it for a moment. The store itself wasn’t terribly high-end, so I might be able to afford it, a cursory _look_ informed me that I was very likely to get it in the near future. Sweet. Don’t know what I would wear it _for_ , but you never know, I guess.

            “That dress would look lovely on you… but isn’t it a bit pricey? You know what would help with that?” I jumped and snapped my head to the side where a _very_ familiar fire monster was standing with a sly grin, “A well-paying job serving in a classy bar. Preferably run by a handsome fire elemental with good tastes.”

            “…Uhuh… yeah, guess it would. When you find such a place, feel free to run it by me.” I snapped, feeling darkly amused at how badly he stuck out. His clothes, while indeed rather nice, had a touch of… _indulgence_ to them. A bit different from the sterile business suits around us, “What are you even doing here, anyway? Go dress shopping often?”

            “Actually, believe it or not, but I was picking up business supplies and just happened to spot you.” I looked at him suspiciously but accepted his explanation. I have a feeling that if he really _was_ stalking me he’d either be upfront about it or I’d never realize he was there.

            “Alright… Fine. I’ll believe you. _This time_. But I need to go to work now. See ya, Grillby.” I said, turning to leave, but he tapped my shoulder. I paused and looked at him.

            “Perhaps I could escort you?” he said charmingly and I narrowed my eyes.

            “Don’t take this the wrong way but… I’m not sure I _want_ you to know where I work.” He laughed, a sound rather surprising in how… odd it was. Like if you suddenly added fuel to a bonfire with damp wood, crackling pops punctuating the sound.

            “Very well then, Iris. I shall leave you be for now. But the offer of employment still stands.” Grillby accepted, walking away at a sedate pace. Huh… alright then. I started heading towards work, briefly _looking_ to find that, yes. I _would definitely_ be seeing him again soon. Damnit.

\--Now for Grillby!—

            He didn’t know _why_ he needed to put out help wanted signs. He already knew who he wanted to hire. But Fuku was picky. Said he needed to actually _look_. But how could he possibly find anyone as promising as the human woman, Iris? She dressed nicely, seemingly at all times, would put her life on the line for complete strangers, and had an attitude. Something that, he’d come to realize over the past few years, was necessary to not get ‘burnt out’ in his presence. She didn’t even flinch at coming into contact with him, blindly trusting that a handshake wasn’t going to burn her, which was a little bizarre for him to experience.

            So he… may have contacted a few old friends about her, something impossible to hide from Fuku. From _them_ , he knew plenty of basic information. Her home address, place of work, and that she was twenty-three. Fuku thought he was being… _unsavory_ , but he considered it prudent. This would be the first time he’d bring an _outsider_ into his territory. _Ever_. The capital city where she lived all her life underground was heavily guarded. They could _afford_ to just _hire_ people willy nilly. Snowdin had no such allowances before Papyrus became captain. He even took the liberty to prepare basic first aid for Iris to use while at work.

            Part of the information he got concerned her being hospitalized in a mental health facility due to the physical and mental toll her condition gave her. What it was exactly, he wasn’t sure. Private information and all that, but it _did_ concern a side effect of nose bleeds, so in the _incredibly unlikely_ event that she didn’t end up working for him, she could still have a drink. And not worry about ruining his nice wooden floors. Yes, now he was prepared and, honestly, it was prudent to get tissues anyway. Allergy season was coming up and _every damn year_ some jackass came in with a runny nose. It was _beyond_ unhygienic. Now he could pelt offenders with boxes of tissues and incinerate the used products.

            He honestly didn’t know why Iris _wouldn’t_ want to work for him. It was a good business venture all around. Now all he had to do was convince _her_ of that… and maybe Fuku as well. She was a passive aggressive little shit and he didn’t know how much longer he could stand finding matches in his shoes. But only _after_ they’d been lit by his fire, ruining his shoes, or at least making it uncomfortable to walk in with the gritty texture of burnt wood. Magic laced matches always reacted to his presence, even when he willed himself to be nonflammable, which was always. He wasn’t an exhibitionist, though, there wasn’t any shame to be had with his amazing body. Anyone would be _lucky_ to see such a sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I don't know if i'll be able to post until Sunday/Monday at the latest, so if you don't hear from me, don't worry. I'm just visiting my mom. (Not 100% if she has WiFi or not). If you guys have any ideas for fun 'what a coincidence, I didn't realize i'd run into you /here/' moments, feel free to request. We got a relationship to build! *Cue Bob the Builder theme song*
> 
> While I may not be able to post, my phone has it's own WiFi, so I can reply or just talk, if you want to. Either here or Tumblr (if you prefer a more private venue). Who knows, maybe i'll work on drawing fire and see if I can make a Fell!Grillby pic? Who knows.
> 
> Edit (5/17/17): Scratch that gone thing, apparently that will be next week. You guys ain't rid of me yet, I guess.
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to comment, request, or recommend~


	3. BP Meets Missy (Are we sure they're meant to be?)

            I’m _reasonably_ certain that today is the day. The day Missy _finally_ meets BP. We needed groceries, so obviously that means we need to go to the grocery _store_. Where, if, and I really mean to stress this _if_ , we time it right, BP will be picking up ice cream. I’ve already seen a similar possibility, and the weather and week day seems about right, so hopefully this ball will finally get to rolling! Just to be sure, I ducked into the bathroom and checked. A couple of minutes later and about three tablespoons of blood down the drain and I knew I was right. But I was exhausted. I’d used my ability _so much_ recently, both on purpose and by accident.

            I rarely get the chance to experience a day at full health, so to speak, but it had been longer than usual. Even as I glared at the dark bruises under my eyes and sneered at the trail of blood on my upper lip, I knew it was worth it. I reached up and pulled on the glass frame, revealing a rather standard medicine cabinet. Some cold medicine, Q-tips, and hygiene items. Nothing else. Several years ago, it was filled with prescription drugs. Drugs to keep up my health. Drugs to keep me calm. Drugs to help with the occasional ‘hallucination’ that never worked for obvious reasons. I couldn’t go a meal without having to swallow a pill or three. I could barely function. I was dying, in more ways than one, and Missy was the only one that cared. She stopped me from draining a whole bottle in one go, just to make everything _stop_.

            Missy, passionate and _compassionate_ Miranda Hawks, refused to just mind her business and let her roommate waste away. She dragged me to every place she could think of, from the park for the peace and the gym for mindless aggression, just to get me out of the house. Eventually, she dragged me to a family dinner where the Hawks family made a collective effort to scrape my ass off the metaphorical sidewalk. There, I was adopted in all but name, in a way no foster family ever did when I was growing up. They didn’t think I was crazy for having been institutionalized. They didn’t think it made me a psychopath or weak for having horrible and vivid nightmares, paired with almost constant nose bleeds. That what happened while I was there was somehow my fault… Though they didn’t know about my ability, the sheer possibility alone making me queasy, they _cared_. And for a ‘never-a-forever-home’ foster kid? That was all I’d ever wanted. So, I’d _gladly_ bleed myself dry if it meant Missy would be happy. It would honestly be one of the best ways I could use my ability, truth be told.

            I splashed water on my face to clean off the blood. I didn’t work today, so maybe after grocery shopping I’d take a nap? I was feeling a bit out of it, and as much as Missy believed exercise and a good diet was key, she had never denied me the right to nap my troubles away. I closed the medicine cabinet and walked out the bathroom. Today shouldn’t be too strenuous for me, eliminating the possibility of worrying Missy too much. I didn’t want anything to distract her from getting a good impression of BP.

\--Damnit Grillby!—

            We were in the freezer aisle when I saw him. I tugged Missy’s shirt and pointed lazily, trying to contain my excitement. When she saw him, at first, she was confused as to why I was pointing him out. Then she got that vague look on her face where she blushes a little because of how cute she thinks something is. Missy _may_ have a soft spot for cute animals that I was exploiting horrifically with good timing. BP was currently grimacing over tubs of ice cream, ears down and everything. Then, _oh then the tables turned_. She realized who he must be, and immediately gave a feral grin. I almost felt bad for BP.

            “Hey! You, fluffy pants!” BP froze and looked up in shock, face twitching into a smile when he realized I was there before falling at how angry Missy looked. I did absolutely nothing to stop Missy from marching over and openly judging BP, who was starting to look like a drowned cat moments from striking.

            “Can I help you, ma’am?” I stayed back a bit to give them their moment. It was always so _cold_ over here, I mused, rubbing my arms.

            “No, I don’t think you _can_. My bestie, sister of my _soul_ , comes home looking like she was mugged. And all for _your_ scrawny ass!” She poked his chest, trying to intimidate him despite him having at least six inches on her, “I hope you’re not an asshat, or I _promise_ you I’ll wipe you from this earth!” As she spoke, his fur began to fluff out in indignation before deflating like a popped balloon as his face scrunched up in confusion.

            “…What the hell are you talking about?” BP asked distantly, “Why do you think I’m an ‘asshat’?” Missy flung her arms out wide in exasperation.

            “I don’t know! That the _point_! You _seem_ nice enough, but you know what assuming does? Makes an ass out of you and _me_. And I don’t like being an ass!” Missy declared, “So if you’re a dick, your dick-days better be done and over with, or I will _smite you_!” slowly, an expression of amusement settled on his face, and BP smiled. He chuckled and looked up at me. I was so riveted by the conversation happening before me that I didn’t even notice that it suddenly got warmer.

            “You’ve got an interesting friend here, Iris.” BP commented lightly, “Quite the spit-fire—“ he froze in surprise and Missy huffed indignantly.

            “Wanna say that to my face, punk?! What’re you staring at, anyhow? You can’t have Iris, she’s _my_ bestie!” Missy declared before turning towards me and freezing, “Woah, dude! You look kickass!” I frowned before turning my head to find Grillby standing right behind me in his usual attire, jacket fluff as well-groomed as ever and the bright red handle of a basked cradled in his elbow. Fuku, his niece, was standing behind him with her own basket. Blue flames dancing as around the cuffs of her varsity jacket that seemed a bit too big to be her own considering the nice fit of her pale blue A-line skirt. Grillby’s head tilted down at me in amusement.

            “I heard the shouting and came to investigate, then I saw you, Iris. Have you thought about my employment offer?” I scowled at him.

            “Still not happening.” I said, biting back the urge to continue with ‘ _now go away, you flaming turd_ ’. That just wasn’t really called for. All he did was have phenomenally bad timing. And an insistence that I work with him. Neither of which demanded I be so rude. I turned back towards Missy and BP, “How about you two get to know each other a bit more while I finish off our shopping?” I asked before immediately pushing the buggy away from the aisle, I smiled at Fuku and nodded my head as I passed by. I really hope I didn’t run into him again. Twice is coincidence, but _three_? Now that would be machinations. Really _suspicious machinations_.

\--Now for what’s up with Grillby!—

            Grillby glared at his reflection, trying to find some offensive flaw in his countenance. Iris is remarkably sharp and determined to put off the inevitable, and it wasn’t because he was a fire elemental. Was it because he lacked nose and ears? That could hardly be helped. He was made of fire, after all, and such outcroppings on his face would just end up with little ‘tails’ of fire. It was a ridiculous image, truth be told. He rather thought the defined, if simplistic, ridges of his face, the sharp jawline and ‘cheekbones’, gave him a dashing appearance. Besides, it hardly stopped him from wearing his favorite glasses, now did it? Maybe it was how freely his fiery ‘hair’ flowed up, following the natural gravity of fire, unlike the rest of his being? He’d been told it was one of his best features, so surely not?

            He just couldn’t fathom why Iris _wouldn’t_ want to work for him. Did she think he was a miser, unwilling to pay decent wage? Of course he wasn’t. He may pinch every penny that goes into his business, but he hardly fleeced anyone while doing so. Especially not competent employees. Then again… she didn’t really seem like the type overly concerned with money, sharp as her wardrobe style may be. She clearly seemed more… alive, for lack of a better word, while her female friend conversed with BP in a rather aggressive manner. She seemed to light up, despite her poor countenance, while watching them. It was actually rather… cute. And he didn’t use that word often. A banging on the door interrupted his thoughts.

            “Quit washing your face, uncle! And while you’re at it, stop stalking the poor girl! She looks like a stiff wind would blow her over.” Fuku muttered through the door. Grillby sighed. He was doomed to be surrounded by snappy females. There was just no two-ways about it.

            He couldn’t believe it took _Sans_ , to make him realize the error of his approach. Of _course_ bringing it up in every conversation wouldn’t work! He couldn’t lean on his fearsome reputation to help sway her into working for him. If it was the underground, sure. He’d be a shoe-in for shelter and protection, but the times were different now. He’d need to use some _finesse_. Maybe see if he can wrangle BP into bringing Iris and her friend by. Make them regulars. Show off the open vacancy on his staff. Life was unexpected. _Eventually_ , Iris would find herself in need of extra cash. Or bored with her current occupation. Either one would work for Grillby, though he preferred the latter. He wasn’t sure if she could handle two jobs at once.

            Maybe he’d make it a requirement that she keep her health in check? Make it enforceable on his end. He had a spare room up on the balcony level for a reason. _Really_ good regulars would be offered the use of the bed if they couldn’t be trusted to make it home on their own without sobering up for a few hours. It was hardly a stretch to extend the offer to more fragile employees. Fuku would likely try and extinguish him if he worded it like that though… He’d even get a reason to patrol the ground floor more often, which was one of the best highlights of his day.

            He took good care of those under his protection and territory. Iris _surely_ wouldn’t regret finally taking him up on his offer. Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, he wondered at his motives. ‘Eyes’ or not, this was pretty involved. Even for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! It's finally caught up with Colorful as Hell! I didn't do as much (timeline wise) as I was originally expecting, but it's whatever. I'mma about to make tacos to celebrate my 21st birthday, so i'll keep this short.
> 
> I hope I did a good job of ironing out Grillby's features. And writing out Missy. No one has really said much about her, so I don't know if you guys give two shits about the other romance or not. As usual, feel free to comment, request, or recommend whatever!
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!


	4. They Finally go to Grillby's Bar

            BP came here to have a good time _and he’s honestly feeling really attacked right now_. Grillby was, at the moment, doing a rather convincing impression of hellfire. He reclined against the bar with a grin that, honestly, unnerved him _a lot_. And what could he possibly want from BP to warrant such personal attention?

            “Since you’re on such good terms with Iris and her friend, why don’t you invite them to have a drink here sometime? Like, say, tonight?” Grillby proclaimed jovially despite the fact that he was still glaring down at BP.

            “I-I’ll see what I can do…” BP sputtered, blindly groping his jacket for his phone. After the oddly amusing attack on his character by Missy, she ensured that her phone number was put into his contact list. He felt his fur stand on end as his ears slicked back and his tail tangled in the bar stool legs as he avoided eye contact with Grillby. He wasn’t a coward, but this was Grillby’s _domain_. There was a very good chance that, if he so pleased, Grillby could reduce him to a pile of dust on the bar stool and no one would say a word. _Please don’t be busy… I want to **live**_ , he thought as he sent the text. Pleased, Grillby chuckled and it was honestly the most terrifying sound he had ever heard in his life, and he was Mettaton’s _personal assistant_.

\--How to save a life—

            It was another free day, which was probably a good thing since I woke up, yet again, covered in blood. The near future was fucking _chaos_. I watched Missy get stabbed, I saw her fight back, and I even saw us relaxing at a familiar bar. All this and so much more. _What the ever loving **fuck**_ is going on? It took another five minutes to see that, _somehow_ , dear sweet Missy _can_ choose the worst possible path to go to Grillby’s bar. When BP texts her… well, any minute now, she will most certainly agree to go. On the way there, she runs into a gang. If she manages to get past them fast enough, nothing happens. But the strongest possibilities was her getting stabbed, them following her to harass her, and her kicking their asses and showing up to her date with bruised knuckles. I sighed, feeling old and tired. In this state, alcohol would only make me want to sleep.

            I reluctantly crawled out of bed and opened the door only to find Missy standing on the other side. If I wasn’t awake by that point, Missy’s startled shriek sure did the trick.

            “Sweet justice on rye!” She huffed, quickly shoving me into the bathroom, “You look like a murder victim! Clean up, we’re going out!” I knew that, if I were to push the matter, she’d easily let me sleep in. But then she’d take that disastrous route _alone_. Here’s to hoping I can avoid alcohol until we go back home…

\--Dun dun dun dun dadadada—

            With a sigh, I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket. There was an odd chill tonight. Or maybe it’s the blood loss talking. Missy was ecstatic to go out, though, so I guess it was alright. I was actually kind of looking forward to getting to Grillby’s already, having already convinced Missy to take a _much safer_ path. At least I’ll be _warm_.

            “Is it a nice bar or a dump?”

            “Eh, it’s pretty alright.”

            “Are there any cute servers?”

            “The staff is literally on fire, Missy. Don’t ask that question unless you want a pun.” She laughed and squealed when she saw the obvious sign glowing neon purple. Gleefully, she dragged me forward. I forget how much of a people person she is sometimes…

            With gusto, she threw the door open.

            “WHERE’S MY PUSSY AT?!” the entire bar looks at the maniac beside me as I cover my face and take a deep, centering breath.

            “I don’t know her…” I offer up as BP struggles not to choke at the bar. I honestly feel too tired to deal with this right now, so I speed walk past her and sit on the empty stool beside him as Missy struts over and takes the seat on the other side of him.

            “T-Thanks for coming, guys. I… really appreciate it.” BP offers up with a nervous expression, eyes shifting around like he thinks assassins are going to pop out.

            “No problem, kitty-cat. Figured it might as well drink with you. Bonding and all that.”

            “And I came as the designated ‘sober friend’. Here to sigh dramatically when she tries to do a strip tease on the table.”

            “Once, Iris. _Once_.” Missy sneered at me from over BP’s shoulder. Fuku, in all her fiery blue glory, slides over to serve us.

            “Any requests?”

            “Whatever kittens having!”

            “A non-alcoholic soda, please.” I sighed, already starting to get flashes of the immediate future. Should I apologize for Missy’s inevitable outbursts _now_ or after the fact? I relaxed as the warmth of the bar started to seep through my jacket, particularly on my back.

            “Well, well, well… look what the cat dragged in. How are you ladies doing tonight?” Grillby asked right behind me. Fuku set a sealed bottle of dark brown soda in front of me and I cracked it open to take a sip.

            “Fine.”

            “We’re great, Grillby. Nice place you got here!” Missy proclaimed, sipping what looked like a margarita.

            “Why, thank you… _Missy_ , was it? I’m glad you appreciate my humble establishment.” I snorted, still resolutely staring at the wall of drinks. The feeling of heat on my back intensified, but I felt cold enough that it was more of a relief than anything.

            “Don’t hold back on my account, dear.” Grillby murmured against the back of my neck, right hand braced on the bar beside me.

            “Just the thought of you having a ‘humble’ anything, Grillby. Don’t worry about it.” A rough chuckle left him, the heat curling around my face, as he withdrew.

            “Fair enough, Iris. I take pride in what’s mine. Been getting a lot of business as of late, actually. Waiting staff can’t _quite_ catch up. Another employee would be nice. Good pay, benefits, a _hot_ boss—“ Fuku faked a cough with a laugh, “But alas, the best option I’ve encountered is sadly… already employed.” Missy looked at me, sparing a short glance at Grillby in consideration. As if feared, she couldn’t quite resist speaking up.

            “The library is so boring, Iris. And you hate waking up early. I’m just saying, it wouldn’t be a _bad_ idea.” I could almost _feel_ how smug that bastard was right now.

            “The library is _fine_. I’m tired all the time as is, working at a bar doesn’t seem like a relaxing thing to do.” I said, taking another sip. A reflexive wave of _what ifs_ hit me. With a sigh, I reached into my pocket for a tissue but there was already one in front of me, hanging between sparking purple fingertips, “Thanks.” I swiped it and covered my nose before blood spots started to run down. I must be getting sick or something if _that_ was all it took to make my nose bleed.

            “Does that happen often?” he asked. I shrugged.

            “Yes. More often than not when she sleeps. I thought she was murdered when I went to wake her up today.” I stuck my tongue out at Missy, “Yeah, yeah. But you can’t deny it, can you? I’ll order one for you and _you_ are going to eat it. You’re starting to look like a ghost nowadays.” Fuku nodded and went into the kitchen briefly before returning with what seemed to be a burger. She set it down in front of me and returned to her job. After getting glared at by Missy for entirely too long, I gave in and ate the offered burger.

            “It really is good for you, Iris. Especially if you’re not eating healthy enough.” Missy sneered at that. Grillby silently watched from the suddenly vacant chair beside me, but I didn’t complain. It was nice to be so warm.

            “I make _sure_ she eats healthy, but she bleeds too much. At this point, I should just get her one of those iron supplements or something!” I sighed as she ranted on about the various healthy choices she strong arms me into making. Not unwillingly. I’m pretty sure I’d be dead from health issues alone if she hadn’t of shoved her way into my life. As she got progressively more drunk, she made less and less sense. After an hour, I had to draw the line. Any longer and she probably _would_ start trying to strip.

            “Alright, time to say goodnight, Missy.” I said, reaching into her pocket to give Fuku the credit card, used to doing this for her.

            “Aw! But I-I was… _We_ were having _fun_!” Missy whined. BP, a little tipsy but not much more, snorted.

            “Any more _fun_ , and you’ll start trying to strip, sister mine.” Grillby snorted and watched as we left the bar, BP waving goodbye. Missy _sure_ knew how to be the life of the party, that’s for sure. Getting her to bed won’t be much of a struggle, since the walk home will sober her up enough that she won’t fight for her ‘independence’. Thank fuck for small favors…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, took me /way too long/ to get here. Bleh. Got vague ideas of plots and things, so i guess now is the time for requests. What DO you want to see? And yes, we will be seeing Anna and Sans soon. Not sure /when/ but soon. Oh, and happy 4th, to whoever it's relevant for!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, feel free to comment related things here or on my Tumblr, if you prefer that.


	5. Grillby Gets a Clue, but Boy, is He Still Blind

            We’d been back by the bar a few times, enough so that it was now a weekly thing Missy insisted on with BP. Obviously, I came along, if only to keep an eye on Missy’s drinking. I was starting to get dizzy more often from ‘looking’ and I don’t think it’s supposed to feel so cold in the beginning of summer. Monster food was helping, but it was clear to me that I would soon need to go to the hospital if this kept up. Actual nightmares that I _do not_ want to dwell on didn’t help in the slightest either.

            Now, if I had total control of my ability, this wouldn’t be such a problem. But most nights I end up ‘seeing’ something, keeping me from a good nights sleep that I desperately need (on top of the nightmares of course), and my nose is getting more sensitive to abuse. I end up losing more blood than I can afford, and a good diet and exercise can’t really make up for it properly if the bleeding doesn’t stop and I can’t sleep. It’s a vicious cycle. I really hope that if others have the ability to see the future, that they don’t have to do it like this.

            I almost shelved a romance novel in the religion section yesterday because I was so out of it. Missy noticed, obviously, and insisted I stay in this week. I wanted to so badly, but I knew that going to bed wouldn’t help at this point, and I saw someone bringing in a gun to the bar and setting it off when they got too drunk. And shooting Fuku, almost ‘dusting’ her, which I couldn’t just let happen. There was a lesser chance of a skeleton getting shot when he brings in his human girlfriend, but it mostly depended on whether or not the gun owner came in early enough to drink away his common sense before that point. Both of those ended with the man getting severe burns all over his body and the bar being closed for several weeks to repair the damages.

            “I’m fine, Missy. A little bit of monster food would probably do me some good, anyway.” I declared soothingly but Missy bristled.

            “You sway when you walk! And not a sexy sway, either, I feel concerned you’re going to pass out! If you think monster food will help, then I’ll get some to go and bring it back to you.” Missy hissed. It was reasonable, but I didn’t want her to get caught in the crossfire.

            “C’mon, Missy! We’ve got a thing going and… I honestly do like it. You say I don’t get out often enough anyway, don’t you?” Missy did that thing where she reels herself in, shoulders rolling back and eyes narrowing, and prepares to deliver a verbal blow to my argument.

            “You are not _well_ , Iris! I’ve half a mind to tell Nana about your downward spiral and let _her_ deal with it!” I froze. Nana was… a _force of nature_. She raised five rowdy boys and three girls, several adopted out of ‘troubled homes’ and was the matriarch of the Hawk family. She firmly believed that you chose your family and you _stood by them_ and occasionally knocked sense into them if need be. Missy’s father, the middle child and very much adopted, held this belief as well as a heart big enough to encompass the world. Along with Missy’s mother, a patient woman who could glare her children into peaceful submission, they were a very dynamic family. But Nana was the epitome of the Hawk way of life. Nana would smother me in blankets and every bowl of soup my body could hold until I was strong enough to bench press a herd of oxen, all the while tearing me a new one for letting my health get so bad, and then the rest of the family would line up for the next round. Clearly, there are good and bad side effects of being adopted in all but name by a caring and rowdy family. There was only one trump card left to play after that. Honesty(but not about the actual issue).

            “…Please, Missy? I… I don’t want to go to sleep right now.” I pleaded in a whisper, immediately taking all the wind out of her sails. I felt horrible doing this. I _knew_ what she thought of when I said that. She wasn’t wrong either. Being the very emotive person she was, Missy’s eyes started to grow damp and she pulled me into a hug.

            “Fine. But you’re eating _so much_ monster food when we get there, and when we get back, you call in tomorrow and take those sleep aids. I’m not arguing about this, sister. You _need to sleep_.” I grimaced at the idea of taking medicine but nodded.

            “Okay…”

            “Let’s get going then, Iris… Iris?” Missy asked. I looked at her in askance, “You _can_ talk to me, you know that right? I love you, you’re family. You’ve _been_ family since we first met. You can’t get rid of me.” She teased me playfully, eyes no longer damp, though mine felt suspiciously like they were getting misty. Briefly, I felt a powerful wave of _want_. It would be such a _relief_ to tell her (I had to hold back the impulse to _look_ , because I couldn’t afford it right now), but the prospect was terrifying. Even knowing with absolute certainty that she would take it well, I was still scared. And honestly, I didn’t want to think of what that said about myself.

\--To light a fire—

            Grillby found himself almost _unnaturally_ happy. It actually took him a solid five minutes to realize _why_. Today would be the fourth week in a row that Iris and her friend Missy came by to drink with BP. It was honestly so delightful how Iris responded to anything he said. She practically radiated sass, and he loved it. Everyone but his niece and her girlfriend would shrink in on themselves if he snapped at them, literally blazing, but Iris would just glare at him like she was a water elemental and tell him to go fuck himself. With her eyes, of course, because she still wanted to be polite, and _that alone was the funniest shit ever to him_.

            “You look particularly pale today, Iris. Are you alright?” he asked in genuine concern when he saw Iris walk in. She looked _awfully_ pale for a human most of the time, but today just seemed worse than usual. She sighed and nodded.

            “I’m _fine_ , honestly.” Iris sighed, sounding quite tired.

            “I know _I’m_ simply stunning and my bar is the best around, but if you’re in such bad sorts, you _can_ just stay at home, Iris.” Grillby declared, moving a chair out for Iris, “I _know_ you’re tired of hearing me bring it up, but I swear I wouldn’t run you into the ground if you worked here. I don’t know what you do at that library of yours, but it must be ridiculous, going by the pallor of—”

            “ ** _Grillby, uncle mine, go do your paperwork_**.” Fuku spat at him suddenly, causing him to jolt, “And stay up there until you’ve finished it all and pulled your head out of your ass!” Fuku was _so much like her mother_. It was frightening. Reluctant to test her, especially since she seemed to be lingering around the sink with the water tap, he cordially nodded towards Iris and her friend before darting upstairs. He behaved all evening, though perhaps it was cheating to throw a fireball at Sans. Only to catch his attention, though! He wanted to talk to Sans’ little lady who was a bit on the shy side, but easily too nice. He could see what attracted Sans in the first place. When they left, he covertly kept an eye on the first floor, far too happy that Fuku couldn’t see if he was doing his paperwork or watching the patrons from the balcony. It took a bit of work to keep an eye on Iris without Fuku seeing him, but he managed it. It was also why he noticed the increasingly drunk patron who forgot to leave his issues at the door. But only because Iris got up to take care of her bleeding nose— _seriously, what sets her nose off? He needed to look into that_ —and stumbled into the drunk patron’s path.

            He must have been telling a story or ranting, the way he waved his arms around, and soundly clocked the back of Iris’ head with a half empty bottle of beer. The drunkard was belligerent, for whatever reason, and twisted around to rant angrily about the now ruined bottle of beer. His whole body froze as his right foot was perched on the bannister and the aborted motion to leap down onto the first floor to intervene. There, tucked in the waistband of the drunk’s jeans, was a gun, black steel glinting in the low light. He flew over the bannister and his fine leather shoes slammed down between Iris and the drunk. He was _pissed_. The entire room was lit up in an almost sterile white shade of fire.

            “And _what **exactly**_ do you think you’re doing carrying a gun into my fine establishment?” Grillby hissed, feeling magic pop in his jaw and out from his lips, “So drunk you can barely see straight, _striking my patrons, **and you dare, like salt on a wound, bring a gun along as well?**_ ” No one _ever_ pulled out a weapon in his bar. Only once had it happened, and he didn’t bother cleaning up the dust until a week had passed, just to ensure the lesson stuck. The man’s blood shot eyes narrowed and he sneered like that was supposed to _impress_ him.

            “I don’t have to _explain_ myself to fucking monster filth!” he roared, reaching back for his weapon, but Grillby had already struck. The man’s allies were frozen, having not even _seen_ the blow that took their presumed leader down. They ran, but Grillby had already memorized their faces.

            “Fuku.” Grillby spat, not looking away from the passed out drunk.

            “Already on it, uncle.” Fuku declared serenely. Grillby took a deep, calming breath, willing the crackling of his magic to die down to a low burn. He almost jumped when he felt a soft tap on his back.

            “Iris!” Missy screeched as Grillby turned around to see what was going on. While Missy managed to make it over without stumbling for the most part, Iris clutched the back of his magnificent jacket with one hand while the other clutched the back of her head, “Are you alright? I didn’t see, what happened?” All he could see was the top of her head for a long moment before Iris looked up at him. Time froze as he felt his Soul clench at the sight of her pain-blurred eyes with tears welling up in them as blood still dripped from her nose. He could not understand it as she turned away from him and addressed her friend, hand never letting go of his jacket.

            Why the hell did her tears bother him? He was hardly one to be swayed by emotional outbursts. He could in fact recall, quite vividly, laughing in the face of an unfortunate monster who broke a mug and tried to get out of repaying him. And _they_ wept hysterically. The problem didn’t go away when Iris turned her face from his, in fact, the horrible feeling _got worse_. He felt the bizarre desire to turn her around towards himself again and personally inspect the blow to her head. What the fuck is this?!

            “I’m _fine_ , Missy.” Iris groaned as Missy started to tug her away from him. He may still be confused as _hell_ , but that wasn’t going to fly.

            “I think it’s time we went home for the night.” Missy declared, reaching for her credit card, likely.

            “Actually—“Grillby interrupted, “She could rest upstairs until you’re properly ready to leave. I’m not sure she should be walking in her condition, regardless.” He reasoned with a charming smile, having turned around and gently, but firmly, pushing Iris back against his chest. She was shaking and her skin seemed clammy, but it was difficult to say whether or not it was shock or just health problems. Missy huffed, eyes narrowing in suspicion. It seems that, despite how easily Missy endorsed the idea of Iris working for him, there was still suspicion about his person. Not _uncalled_ for, he had to admit.

            “She needs to rest in bed.”

            “I _have_ a bed upstairs for my favorite customers if they’re too drunk, you know. I’ll even get her another order of food before she naps.” Grillby declared, inwardly screaming at how his first inclination was to give away that food for _free_. _What the fuck_?!

            “Fine.” Fuku answered to his _and_ Missy’s surprise. Fuku gave him an evaluating look, “You’re almost there…” was all she said. Having Fuku agree seemed to have bought Missy over.

            “Alright… but only for a few hours!” Missy declared, “She needs to rest before the cops come and question her anyway…” Missy muttered.

            “Come along then, Iris.” Grillby murmured magnanimously as he steered her upstairs to the backroom. It was rather bare with only a twin sized bed and a nightstand. The door to the bathroom was left ajar and a small waste basket was placed next to the bed. He cleaned the room almost religiously since it was also where he napped before he lit some idiot on fire in his unruly temper.

            “Thanks, Grillby.” Iris replied as she took the offered box of tissues and started dabbing at her nose while he lifted up the blankets for her. After a few moments, she stopped and laid down, sleep coming rather quickly. She must have been exhausted. He took a moment to sort through the strange evening he’s had. It was beyond curious how he’s been acting, now that he thought about it.

            He’s become hyper-focused on a complete stranger. Trying to herd her into his territory whatever way possible (working here or just coming by with her friend). He’s made specialized accommodations for her despite not having a guarantee she’d be around. While he _could_ blame the speed and severity of his actions against the drunkard on defending his territory, the fact that he was already moving before he saw the gun, simply because of who was struck was… rather telling. If he didn’t know any better… he’d say he was _courting her_.

            It was an older style of courting, where the dominant needed to prove they could provide and care for the submissive (ostentatiously similar to older human courting styles between men and women). It was grounded in old instincts and reinforced by standards set in place while a monster was young. Sans likely mimicked it while courting Anna, but not to the degree Grillby himself would due to his age. He was _quite old_ , and learned at the knees of his parents how he should go about courting, along with his sister. There was the first stage of Interest. More often than not, the submissive catches the eye of the dominant rather than the other way around. Since Grillby didn’t realize he had started stage one, he latched onto the next best explanation for his interest. That he needed another worker. He felt like an idiot, truth be told.

            By herding Iris into his territory, he was ensuring that they could learn more about the other while showing off his prowess. A sort of unspoken _‘look how well I can defend my territory and loved ones, isn’t that impressive?’_. But because he was an idiot, he muddied the waters. His Soul knew what he intended, but _he_ didn’t, which meant that every rejection about the _job_ didn’t register because it wasn’t the actual question. Every dominant (assuming they weren’t barbarians) accepted a rejection when it was given. They may try again later, but they must back off for a particular period of time, depending on what stage of courting they were at, and assuming that the submissive didn’t find a better suitor in the meantime. Before the barrier, to go against it meant that the family of the submissive was allowed to declare a feud, but afterwards it meant that you were likely to get dusted by the submissive in question. No one could afford the downward spiral that ignoring a rejection typically indicated on top of being drunk off of LV.

            But he was ignoring the main point. Was he really courting Iris? A _human_? At this point, he wasn’t surprised when the thought of a successful courting process with Iris didn’t disgust him. It made him feel rather _smug_ , in fact. Human she may be, but she had quite a few traits he admired most. Stubbornness. Patience. Dry wit and snark. He was an egotistical monster, so it didn’t surprise him that the excuse to be meticulous in her care was a rather pleasing prospect. It wasn’t like she was _weak_. Far from it. But he could get behind the excuse to occasionally bundle his Bonded up in his arms and stay in the heart of his territory for the day.

            That was it then. Now all he had to do was get started with _proper_ courting. He had every confidence that now he had cleared up his own misunderstanding that Iris would welcome his advances. How could she _not_? There honestly wasn’t a better catch than him in the whole city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pft. Can't wait to see that. I honestly intended to drag out this part for a while longer, but i didn't really have a long list of ideas for how they'd butt heads. But this should be interest, yeah?
> 
> If you guys have anything you'd like to see, feel free to lay it on me, here or on my Tumblr (of the same name as my profile here). I kind of want to know what you guys like about this story. I know you think Grillby is hilarious (and infuriating), but do you have questions? Is there something bugging you about Iris? Missy? I remember reading a head canon somewhere for Grillby that the person thought that he got the idea that he was crushing/falling in love pretty quick and didn't really fight himself about it. Not one for denying himself (especially not this egotistical bastard). Have you seen one of those "imagine your OTP" bits on Tumblr that makes you think of these two? I'm not afraid of writing little omakes here or there, they keep my focus in the general field of the story as opposed to wondering off to other potential ideas that i can't work on yet. Feed my Soul with dialogue, for i hunger greatly.


	6. Smooth Move, Genius

            In less than an hour, the police had come to arrest the drunkard and take witness statements. They saved Iris for last, thankfully, otherwise Grillby _might_ have lit their asses on fire. The police officer looked rather young with a clean-shaven face and sharp brown eyes, uniform immaculate despite the late hour.

            “And where is the lady that was hit? Does she need medical attention?” Grillby huffed but her friend, Missy, answered first.

            “She’s resting upstairs. She has chronic nosebleeds and the blow to her head mostly just made her dizzy. No signs of a concussion.” Missy informed the police officer, who nodded smartly.

            “I’ll go get her.” Grillby volunteered waspishly, rather reluctant to wake Iris so soon. Despite how intimidated the officer seemed at Grillby’s fiery form, he followed Grillby upstairs and to the back room. Grillby felt his flames sputter at the growing pool of blood forming under Iris’ face.

            “Miss! Are you alright?!” Grillby wasn’t sure if he was angry at the officer for forgetting the ‘chronic nosebleeds’ part of Missy’s description or the fact that the officer had beaten him to acting first. The officer firmly shook Iris’ shoulder, waking her abruptly and causing her to cough, likely from inhaling through her nose while it was still bleeding.

            “H-Holy shit…” Iris whispered thinly, voice strained as she reached past the officer for the box of tissues, “Y-Yeah—fuck—give me a minute… sorry about all the blood.” Grillby waved away the concern.

            “You _will_ be eating food before you leave. Non-negotiable.” Grillby declared.

            “Do you need to go to the hospital?” the officer asked kindly and Grillby fought back the urge to snarl. Truth be told, she probably _should_. Bleeding so much is _not normal_. He only left for barely an hour and she started bleeding again, why? It was concerning. After several moment and a few more tissues, she shook her head.

            “Nah, I just need to take it easy. I assume you’re here to ask questions?” Iris asked.

            “That’s right, miss. First thing’s first, your name and contact information.” Iris dutifully told the officer her name— _Iris Flynn Stone_ —and her number, which he put to memory himself, “And can you tell me what happened?”

            “Well, Missy wanted to hang out with BP tonight and I tagged along to keep an eye out on her intake, she gets a little wild if she goes too far. My nose started bleeding and I headed to the bathroom to clean it before it got any worse and—” Grillby stopped listening. It made sense. That’s what she _should_ have been doing. He saw her get up himself, but there was one problem. The bathroom wasn’t in the direction of the drunkard. She should have just gotten up and went to the far right where the door was, close enough to the bar for Fuku to keep an eye on it but not have to worry about smelling whatever mess was made until closing. _Why did she chose to walk in an arch rather than a straight line_? She knew where the bathroom was already, had chosen the direct path each time, so why did she change her routine path? Something was up, Grillby decided. And with any luck, he’d get to figure it out while courting her, after he asked, of course… probably the next time he saw her. Timing is half the battle, after all, and he doubted she’d be interested in romantic enquiry after the night she’s had.

\--Iris is so confused—

            _What the actual fuck happened?_ My dreams were filled with Grillby’s sudden romantic, and rather self-assured, advances. Was it what had happened last night? Did he change his mind after seeing me get knocked upside the head? I don’t know how to feel about his interest—or rather, his _future interest_ —only after seeing me as a victim of assault and no longer a capable possible-employee. And this is assuming that flirting doesn’t happen to just be how he interacts with someone he’s comfortable with, either. Regardless, I didn’t want to know _exactly_ what event changed his mind. I was rather afraid to, partially because it was probably internal thinking, and I can see the future, not read minds.

            It was almost impressive, how little any rejection seemed to phase him. I was kind of jealous at how confident he was, to be honest. Still made me want to flick water at his face to make him back off, and he hadn’t even started yet, but there’s something to be said for his boundless confidence. But that wasn’t my only issue. I seriously need to cut back on the visions. It makes me feel paranoid—what if something bad happened and I didn’t see it coming?!—but I can’t keep bleeding like this. I should probably start eating more meats and dark green veggies. The monster food helped, but I can’t depend on just magic to keep my health up. Looks like another trip to the grocery store is in order. Last I recall, we finished off the chicken strips last week and neither one of us likes fish. There are plenty of veggies though, so I won’t have to get much from the store after work.

            After washing up and brushing out my hair, noticing a more sizable wad of loose hair than normal, I got dressed. Pressed button-up shirts, camisoles, and comfy sweaters lined the hangers in my closet, followed by ironed slacks and a couple of jeans. In the far back was a single T-shirt and worn pajama pants on the same hanger. For the worst days where I needed that comfort. I grimaced at the reminder that if I didn’t get a handle on myself I really _would_ need those clothes. And a hospital visit, in all likelihood. The thick purple sweater insulated me nicely against the air conditioning and from experience, I knew that the library wouldn’t make me freeze as long as I wore it.

            Missy was in the kitchen, as usual, making breakfast. It was probably more nutritious than the average person could handle, but after last night, I wasn’t going to fight her on how much vitamin powder she may or may not have stuffed into the pancake batter. She gets extra fussy after I get hurt, she sees someone else suffer an accident, or if she even hears a whisper of a flu going around the city. It _was_ part of her job, so I could understand that she was hyper-aware of health concerns.

            “I’m going to pick up a few things after work, do you need anything?” I asked casually, stabbing a small mound of pancake covered in syrup. Missy looked up at me with a mouthful of pancakes herself.

            “Oh! Yeah, I’ve got a list right here. I was going to wait until our next grocery trip but… You’re going to get red meats, aren’t you? We already have plenty of salad options.” I nodded, “That good. You need a fair amount of protein at this point. Maybe a few more naps wouldn’t hurt.” Missy declared and I looked up at her with a grin.

            “So, does that mean I can—”

            “Absolutely not! Naps, I said, not sleeping the entire day away!” She proclaimed with a dramatic pounding of her fist to the kitchen table. I snorted, almost choking on my food.

            “Alright, sorry I asked, Missy!” I grinned, throwing my hands up in an appeasing motion. She clicked her tongue and smiled back at me.

            “Have fun in the library, nerd.” Missy declared haughtily with a playful wave of her hand.

            “Hey, it pays, doesn’t it?” I asked, rinsing my empty plate in the sink.

            “About as much as rummaging in the couch cushions.” Well… couldn’t really argue with that. Missy _was_ the primary money maker of the house, I just made enough to pay my half and put some back for personal expenses. Like tissues and occasionally replacing blood-stained clothes and bed sheets when the damage was too great. To absolutely no one’s surprise, a personal trainer made more than a library assistant. It was probably why she was so open to Grillby’s offer of a job. Including tips, it probably made more than my current job by leaps and bounds. But close association with Grillby brought back… _him_.

_Well, not quite, but why risk it?_

            Regardless of _any_ of that, if I keep standing around, I’m going to be late.

\--Check it—

            It wasn’t an exciting job, but standing and walking around for several hours brings on a very unique sense of exhaustion. Mostly centered in my legs and feet, no matter what kind of sensible shoes I wore. Which is why I didn’t spend much time contemplating food options, which is what I usually end up doing, occasionally scaring people when I get a sudden nosebleed. But as they say, the devil’s in the details, and in this case, Grillby was perusing the seasoning aisle. If I had actually taken the time to consider the nutritional/financial merits of rib-eye or prime cut steak of mostly equal mass, then I probably would have missed him. But I did not, in both cases.

            I would have just moved to my next listed item, but we were running low of seasonings, and I didn’t fancy a plain steak at any point in the near future. Does his bar ever actually close? I never took note of the hours but it was weird that I kept seeing him around the city. Grillby glared at a small tube of spices and sneered, grumbling under his breath.

            “…It’s my damn bar. I don’t even cook anymore, but who has to pick up more spice to last until the next shipment? Me. Fucking bullshit is what this is. Little extortionist niece and her girlfriend, ganging up on me. Too much like her mother, I swear.” I couldn’t control the snort that left me, nasally and loud with mirth, triggering Grillby to snap his head towards me. For a brief moment his expression was fierce and intimidating, but in an instant it mellowed out and he looked pleased to see me, “Ah, Iris! How are you, spitfire?” I frowned at him, noting the odd, almost flirty tone, he spoke with.

            “Well enough… What are your bar hours, anyway? Do you even sleep?” I couldn’t help but ask. Grillby literally beamed at me, a soft blue hue overtaking purple between the lenses of his dark glasses.

            “Why from four in the afternoon to two in the morning. I don’t usually need much sleep, so long as I eat well, about six hours is all I need. The perks of being a fire elemental, you could say. I see you have quite a few protein heavy items in your basket, spitfire.”

            “Yeah, I need quite a bit of stuff like this to counter possible anemia.” I explained, looking over at the spices and picking out what the apartment lacked.

            “What triggers that, anyway? Is it stress?” An easy out answer would be ‘yes’, but then the question would come up of what I could be stressed _about_. People rarely ask _why_ my nose bled, but I knew from experience that saying that it just happened sometimes leads to an increased amount of the topic of ‘cancer’ being brought up ‘casually’. The doctors certainly found no _real_ cause.

            “We’re not sure, to be honest. I’ve _had_ medical examinations, but there isn’t any real explanation for it. It’s not anything wrong with my nose or my head. As long as I stay on top of it, I’ll be fine, so why worry?” I declared easily in a tone that usually reassured people. But Grillby just frowned, sparks escaping from his ‘mouth’ at my dismissal.

            “Have you been examined by a _monster_ doctor? It may be a problem with your Soul or… magic based.” Grillby murmured and my first instinct was to be insulted, despite not understanding what the ever-loving- _fuck_ he was talking about. Then I remembered that monsters actually _could_ interact with Souls, so it wasn’t as odd a question or solution. The magic-based part of what he said made me nervous though. I highly doubt anything good could come out of outing myself as a… a _seer_ or whatever.

That’s just _asking_ for trouble… the last time anyone found out it ended horribly for me. I spent almost half a year in a drugged state where nothing seemed real a majority of the time. Every _could-be_ and _what-if_ given equal weight in my mind as present occurrences as though it was all happening at once… the world began to constrict around me and I jolted out of that train of thought. Relapsing now was _not_ on my to-do-list for the day.

“Oh… it’s really not that big of an issue, to be honest. I just need to take it easy and… anyway, I’m pretty much done here, so I guess I’ll see you the next time Missy goes drinking. Bye, Grillby.” I said airily, moving quickly out of the aisle. Smooth as silk. Not a single suspicion raised there, _I’m sure_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected, but hey, a bit more of a look into Iris' past! For someone hiding a magic ability, she's not that good at dodging the previous topic. Well, I'm at work, so uhm... yeah, I better wrap this up before someone asks questions that i don't want to answer. I hope you guys liked this chapter, feel free to talk, request, or recommend particular content here or on my Tumblr!


	7. One Step Closer

I was surprised by a text in the middle of my break. It wasn’t a problem to check, but usually Missy waited until after I was off to call or text. I flipped the old phone open and took a bite out of a chicken sandwich, glad that no one was in the break room. I had a colleague about twenty-eight years old, Helen, that seemed to be vastly disappointed in the lack of drama and seemed intent on creating her own. She was aided in her crusade by Vernon, a personable man of the same age as her, and neither one of them seemed to realize that a library wasn’t an inherently exciting or sinful place to work. Not unless you spent a little _too much_ time shelving romance novels. Our boss, Rosanne, mostly let us do our own thing, more concerned with doing the background work needed to keep the library afloat.

The text was a standing invitation to go to a party at Grillby’s place. Apparently the skeleton, Sans, and the girl… Anna? Yeah, Anna was engaged now and Grillby wanted to celebrate. It wasn’t for several weeks yet, so there was plenty of time to plan. I sighed, finishing off my sandwich, and standing back up. Out of reflex, I _looked_ and was immediately sent back into my seat by the dizzy rush to my head. I barely managed to put a napkin to my nose before I had to close my eyes against the rush of images that flooded me.

I couldn’t _see_ what was wrong. What the fuck was the catalyst!? If I went to the party, I’d die a week later, somehow growing weaker and incapable of moving for the last three days. If I don’t go then the path branches. Most likely, I hear of nothing. No sudden deaths or anything. A few smaller options mostly just seemed to affect Grillby’s demeanor. The most likely one he becomes melancholy and snaps at everyone. He gets to be insufferable and seems even more determined in his advances but I can’t seem to see far enough to tell what changed him suddenly. The most faded possibility is that Fuku dies, but it’s barely worth a thought it’s so weak. I’ll keep an eye on it still… maybe after I recover from this massive set back to my health.

I spent several minutes blinking away the black spots and trying not to pass out, bloody napkin just barely held in my limp hand. Fuck I don’t feel good… on the plus side, I have a good reason to not go to the party. And I’ll probably be able to pass for health reasons alone, actually. I took a deep breath and waited for the shock to wear off. At least I just ate. You’d think after having this ability since I was fifteen, I’d have gotten the hang of using it. How to properly control it and all that. But no. It’s just a chaotic as before. Fucking ridiculous.

“Oh my god!” I jolted in my seat and snapped my head to face Helen, who stood at the door in horror. She’s seen me have a nosebleed before, but I will admit my current position didn’t really scream reassuring things.

“Yo,” I said blandly, feeling a little dizzy still as she gaped at me.

“You need an ambulance!” She declared but I immediately declined.

“There’s no need for that, Helen! I’m a bit dizzy is all. I just ate, so I’ll be fine in a couple of minutes, I swear.” I reassured her but she seemed determined to put me in the hospital. I felt like I was going to vomit… I haven’t been in a hospital since _the incident_.

“There’s so much blood! You _really_ need a hospital!” I waved my hands in denial, eager to move on from this conversation.

“Seriously, Helen, I’m _fine_. If I went to a hospital every time my nose bled, they’d have a plaque above a bed with my name on it, I’d be in there so often.” I flippantly declared, feeling well enough to get back to work. I stood up and tossed away my trash, idly stepping by her when she stopped me with a gentle hand.

“Seriously, Iris… I’m _worried_ about you. _We’re_ worried about you.” I sighed, understanding that, beyond her dramatics, she had good intentions. But there was no way I was going to a hospital anytime in the near future.

“I get that, Helen, but _seriously_. I’m fine. They just… happen from time to time. That’s all.” I walked out of the room, struggling to contain the instinctive desire to _check_ and see how she’d handle it. I really hope she leaves well enough alone. Helen and Vernon mean well, they just tend to… get carried away. Like the time we raised money for cancer awareness and they thought an in-depth presentation over cancer and _people dying from cancer_ was a good idea for general audiences. Luckily, Rosanne noticed and we toned it down to a few cartoon episodes that dealt with the topic a little less morbidly than death rate statistics and stage 4 dying cancer patient pictures.

\--Bout time for Missy, don’t cha think?—

She always felt so _alive_. There just seemed to be a constant buzz of energy running through her at all times and Missy _loved_ the feeling of being alive. Her mother joked almost constantly that, since the day she could stand, she’d run. Never walk, oh no. Who has time for _walking_? It was actually only in her teen years that she realized that her energy, her _vitality_ , wasn’t strictly normal. Not even for her energized family. She just always seemed to have a second wind. Or a third. Or even a fourth. Whatever it took to get stuff done.

She was also infectious. Her teammates in track never seemed to be tired at the end of practice when she was there. The recovery rate was phenomenally quicker than normal. It was after nursing an old friend from a back injury that she found her calling. Professional trainer. She wanted to be a physical therapist originally, but couldn’t afford all the bells and whistles to do so just yet. Soon though, she would, since she’s been tucking away money for quite some time. Which brings up the topic of her sweet roommate and sister of her soul.

When she first met Iris, it was for interviewing potential ‘roommates’, cause she needed one if she wanted to keep living in her apartment and not have her family help foot the bills. Iris was a thin little lady. Lady, not girl, because there was something… elegant and stubborn about her. She looked like a foul wind would knock her over, hair cut short around her ears, and pale as the full moon. Physically, she looked like she had one foot in the grave, which caught Missy’s mothering side immediately. But her eyes seemed to declare that, come hell or high water, she wasn’t down for the count just yet. That earned Missy’s respect.

Iris was an interesting person. She didn’t like to go out, but if Missy insisted, she’d sit beside her in a bar, soaking up the atmosphere, happy as a clam. She half expected Iris to be overwhelmed by her family, large and blusterous as they were. And at first, she was. She had merged with the wallpaper for almost a full hour before Nana shuffled over, extracted her from the wall, and plied her with both questions about her life and obscene amounts of food. Missy could still remember Nana boldly declaring,

“You know I can’t resist troubled sweethearts, Missy! You’ll just have to deal with having another sister, cause we’re keeping her.” After hearing just a smidge, barely anything substantial really, about Iris’ few years in a medical facility for health reasons. “And she dresses so smartly! I had to teach your dad how to wear a tie eight times before he got it right! I’ve never had to show a young lady how to dress _down_ for comfort!” jokingly referring to the fact that everyone else at the reunion wore loose clothes. T-shirts, jeans, and cowboy boots at best. Missy didn’t honestly think Iris _could_ blush, but she managed a surprisingly deep shade of red for someone who was borderline anemic.

For a while there, just being nearby and helping her slowly recover from… _something_ that happened while she was hospitalized, seemed to help. She got better. But lately, well, she’s gotten so _pale_ again. And tired. Irritation leaking into every action she takes in the morning even though when she talks she’s just ‘fine’. She’s worried, to be honest. Hell, she’s even talked to BP about it, and he seems to think something is up to.

He’s actually suggested it might be a problem concerning her Soul. At first, Missy was a bit insulted on Iris’ behalf, but then BP explained what he meant. If it’s not a problem with her body, which Missy knew it wasn’t, then there might be an issue with her Soul. Something that, by all likelihood, can be treated with magic. So far though, Missy has been trying to figure out a way to pitch the idea without scaring Iris off. She seems extremely skittish about hospital-related things, even having nightmares that Missy, to this day, doesn’t know the details of. She wasn’t sure she could hold out much longer though. Iris _really does_ look like she’s about to keel over any day now. Whatever ability Missy had was no longer enough to prevent the negative side effects Iris was experiencing. And that scared her.

All these thoughts refused to leave her as she reclined on the couch, relaxing from a long day working at the gym. It took the door slamming shut to realize she’d been laying there for a couple of hours, long enough for Iris to get home. Iris stood beside the couch for a long moment, staring at seemingly nothing.

“So… how was work?” Missy asked after a long moment. Iris jolted, swaying slightly before looking at Missy, her eyes not quite focused, “Ah. Nap?” she nodded her head.

“Yeah… nap.” Iris shuffled into her room as Missy got out her phone, shooting a question to BP. _How do I go about figuring out if Iris has a Soul issue without going to a doctor_?

 _Well, usually issues with Souls are easy to see in Monsters. If we get sick, there’s something wrong with our magic, and if chronic, our Souls. But a human…_ Missy waited for BP to finish his sentence, which was almost a full fifteen minutes, _Alphys, a monster doctor, says that a human with an issue in their Soul may have odd adverse reactions to magic. Healing magic either being too strong or too weak compared to other patients. Monster attacks having out-of-normal effects. Depends, but you can usually see something is up_. Well… what the hell was she supposed to do with that information? Wait… how well was monster food supposed to work for minor health issues?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Struggled hardcore to get this written, but damn I managed it somehow. What would you guys like to see? More Missy? The folks? BP, or even Grillby? Or moving forward for the library? It's sometimes difficult to gauge what should be given more attention when I'm not sure what all is liked in this fic.
> 
> Anyway, feel free to leave a comment here, or on my Tumblr. A place where I practice my slowly but surely growing art skills, mostly with character's I've already written about.


	8. Under my Umbrella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughtfully beta'd by FlamingoBlubber

I need to stop waking up like this. What happened to the good old days where waking up to a bloody mess was just an _occasional_ thing? And I _didn’t_ get visions of the possible death of someone I know? Those were nice days. I wanted to go back to that… but since I can’t I guess laundry needs to be done again. With any luck Missy won’t shove monster food down my throat when she next sees me.

After briefly blacking out when I sat up, I shuffled into the bathroom, washing off my face and swiftly returning to strip my bed. When I went to throw everything in the washing machine, I saw that we were out of the good detergent. The detergent that actually removes blood stains. Sighing, I let the washer fill up with cold water before stopping it. I needed to get more detergent. And an umbrella, more specifically, the kind that pops out when you press a button. Another last minute change to tonight’s plans. Regardless of how shitty I feel right now, I need to be there. Can’t skip with the horrible knowledge that if I don’t, Fuku will get sprayed _in the face_ with water from a squirt gun. The vision was terrible enough on its own—the mental image of Fuku’s fire sputtering and hissing in pain, the sound honestly horribly enough on its own, burned in my mind. I wasn’t going to let that happen. Not on my watch.

\--Slowly but surely—

I pulled on a sweater since I was now officially cold, even with the balmy springtime weather outside. Missy seemed to be watching me more closely than usual, but with how often I had to pause when standing up and how I seemed to sway a lot more than normal, I couldn’t blame her. If this kept up I… wouldn’t be able to argue against going to the hospital. A shudder ran down my spine and I braced myself on the wall for a second. I only needed to make it there and wait. Nothing more. I could do this… fuck why were humans such assholes?

“Iris… you don’t have to come with me, you know. I don’t mind if you stay in tonight.” Missy murmured in concern, her hand on my shoulder, “And it’s not going to rain, you don’t need an umbrella.” Ah… the only flaw in my plan, but I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stand up and take the shot of water quick enough without collapsing immediately after.

“I figured that if Grillby bugs the hell out of me, I can open it and make him move back a bit. It’ll be hilarious.” I assured her, which, now that I’ve pulled that out of my ass, it wasn’t that bad of an idea. It would certainly shut his smug face up for five seconds. I tensed against the sudden impulse to check for an occasion to do so, my vision wavering briefly but I managed to remain steady. Grinning mischievously, I laughingly stated, “Now let’s get going before BP gets his tail in a twist.” Missy’s face scrunched up, scrutinizing my features. She hummed before deigning to respond.

“Hmmm… If you say so, Iris. As long as you swear to get some food when we get there.” Missy softly replied, after I agreed she opened up the door to let me through. The walk was quiet, save for the usual background noise of the city. Cars beeping, the distant sound of other people walking and talking, and our own footsteps. I’d never thought of it before now, but the area that Grillby’s bar was in… it was always so quiet. Unless they’re headed to his place or causing trouble, there’s not many people around. Monsters _or_ humans. Weird. But Grillby’s place was as busy as it usually was.

I almost sighed in relief when we entered the bar, the temperature pleasantly warm to my chilled skin. Grillby was leaning over the edge of the bannister and grinned down at us. Most of the seats were full but the bar stools were pretty clear, BP clearly having saved two seats for us, his suit jacket sprawled over the two stools next to him.

“Hey Missy, Iris. Glad to see you guys on time. How’ve ya been?” BP asked, removing his jacket for us. I let Missy sit next to BP and turned towards Fuku, already counting down the minutes until the inevitable interruption.

“Pretty good, kitty cat. You going to get some monster food, Iris?” Missy pressed, as though I would suddenly forget about my promise.

“Yes, sister. You can surprise me Fuku, so long as the drink isn’t alcoholic.” I said casually.

“Sure thing, Iris. I’ll be right back.” Fuku promised as she turned towards the door to the kitchen. I sighed when Grillby slid onto the seat next to me.

“Is your dislike of alcohol related to your medical condition?” He asked in curiosity, propping his elbow on the bar and setting his chin on the palm of his hand. I almost wanted to smack him with my umbrella but refrained from doing so. It was just a simple question.

“Yes, but I also just don’t like it. Thank you, Fuku.” I smiled as she slid a plate of crispy fries and a burger in front of me with what looked like a shake.

“You’re welcome, Iris. This is a protein shake that Ollie’s been dying to try out.” Fuku’s fire flickered white around her eyes and crackled happily before she glared at Grillby, “Behave, uncle.” Grillby huffed, clearly affronted.

“I’m the very definition of behaved, Fuku!” Grillby hissed weakly, “I was just going to offer Iris the chance to sample my handmade stock when her health improves. Think of it as a gift and reward.” Grillby smirked at me and I rolled my eyes, turning towards Missy.

“Well, looks like I’m going to die young.” I stated blandly, earning a glare from Missy as she smacked my shoulder.

“Eat your food! You’re not allowed to die young!” She hissed before turning to BP to finish whatever she’d been saying before. I huffed but set out to eat my food anyway, placing my umbrella on the bar, wedged under my left arm carefully. Fifteen minutes left. The fries were perfectly salty and the burger well done, the healing effects hard at work—I could almost feel my health improving, but it wasn’t enough to fix everything. Missy’s voice finally registered to me as my attention span improved. My mind a little less fatigued than before.

“—so I told him that his exercise regime wasn’t enough to counter so much take-out food _and_ lose the weight he wanted. He acted offended, but at that point, I was just trying to save his arteries and his wallet.” Missy ranted about one of her clients, BP snorting in laughter.

“You won’t believe the kind of plans Mettaton drafts up, half the time he seems to want to blow the entire budget on wardrobe alone. I’m glad he’s so confident of himself now but I didn’t realize his fashion criteria was so extravagant!” BP huffed, causing Missy to laugh. The door opened and I realized it was time, my hand grasping the handle of the umbrella as I closed my eyes. I pressed my sleeve to my nose, half in a trance as I waited for just the right moment, watching for the best timing.

“No one can resist my handmade whiskey! It’s the best on the market—if I ever sold it… Iris?” Grillby’s voice was muffled as I pressed the button just in time, the bright yellow fabric bursting open and blocking a large rain of water. I shuddered as a headache ripped through me, the room growing dim suddenly. Hands grabbed me, but they felt so cold. I wasn’t even sure if I hit the ground as water rushed through my head and around my ears.

\--Whoops, headrush—

Grillby was sure that Iris would enjoy his whiskey. He made it himself in the early days of being stuck behind the barrier, so it was finely aged. A real proper drink, if he did say so himself. He understood if she wanted to abstain until her health was better though, it was a prudent decision. As soon as he got to the bottom of her illness, he could work towards helping her get better—likely the best courting gift he could give, truth be told. And it would clearly show her that he could care for her well. He runs a good business, the most handsome monster around, and sharp as a tack! All wonderful traits for a perfect suitor, and he had them in spades.

As she turned away from him, clearly catching onto the conversation going on between BP and Missy, he belatedly realized that she didn’t… actually know about courting. He could flirt and flaunt all he wanted in accordance to the old tradition, but if she didn’t _know_ , she couldn’t accept or reject his advances. Something that would _never_ have passed in his youth. For a suitor to court a submissive without making their intentions clear, why, that would have been grounds for severe punishment in his youth. But he couldn’t explain the rules to her—that might be taken as trying to slant the rules in his favor (even though almost no one in this day and age really knew that). Shit… he needed to call in a favor. Flustered and embarrassed with himself (so much for sharp as a tack!) he addressed Iris again, this time about the refined qualities of his whiskey.

“—if I ever sold it… Iris?” Grillby paused in his passionate declaration when he noticed she moved oddly. She covered her nose with her sleeve, free hand deliberately wrapping around the handle of her umbrella. She seemed so focused but her body swayed as Grillby picked up the sharp tang of iron. Her blood. He looked around, possibly for a napkin, and suddenly took notice of the familiar man in front of the door. It was the armed drunkard from before, only this time, he was armed with a bright green and yellow squirt gun. It was sizable and full of liquid. Grillby would be fine getting a little wet, he was far too old for a puddle to hurt him, but Fuku—

_Fwap!_

Bright yellow blocked his vision as he heard water smack the umbrella’s surface. He spun around and barely registered Iris falling out of her seat, Missy fumbling to catch her. The umbrella fell away to reveal Doggo pinning the man down, the squirt gun broken on the floor. Feeling secure in the knowledge that the blind dog monster had the situation handled, he turned back towards Iris. Blood covered her face and she was so _pale_ , far more than she was when she first walked in.

For the first time in a _long_ time, Grillby felt panic. He reached out, hands glowing with magic he thought he lost the ability to use when he was young, and cupped Iris’ face gently. Green flames flickered over her skin and hair harmlessly, the warmth seeping inwards. Stronger than the residual healing magic in monster food. Grillby felt anxiety curl up his body as he realized her skin was still pale. His magic—admittedly weak compared to others he knew—was having almost no effect on her. There _was_ something wrong with her Soul, but what?

“I-I think she needs to go to the hospital!” Missy cried out in concern, hands clutching at Iris’ sweater. Grillby _felt_ Iris shudder in his hands, her head shaking despite having passed out. Grillby looked up at BP, giving him a meaningful look.

“Missy, I don’t think a hospital will help. It’s her Soul, isn’t it?” BP asked. Grillby nodded, shoulders tense as Iris still showed no improvement. By all means, she should have full health… but that doesn’t cover chronic conditions and issues with the Soul.

“Yes… I could check, but not without her permission. I’d be dunked in an ocean if I did that without permission.” _by several people_ , Grillby added in his head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah, man has it been a while! I think Grillby's getting close. Maybe one more clue and he'll realize what's up. Iris isn't feeling the best, so she's getting sloppy. And I even get to introduce his sister (my best candidate to explain 'courting' to Iris). Whether or not he'll actually show his nicer side or just be that confident douche, we'll see.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, thank you for being so patient with me! If you guys have any comments (or requests) feel free to tell/ask me here or on my tumblr (same username, blog is called Winter's Grasp). I've made a seperate fic solely to handle requests that don't fit in any story, so go check it out (But Seriously, What If) if you want to see me write something that isn't related to a current story!


	9. The Truth Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild mentions of blood, but not much else!
> 
> Archive tweaked out on me and kept cutting part of it out because Word inserted an emoji for this: ;)  
> So if anyone got a few repeat emails over several seconds, I apologize, I had to fix it real quick.
> 
> Beta'd by FlamingoBlubber

Grillby’s bar was silent for a long moment as he came to a decision. Swiftly, he lifted Iris into his arms and dashed upstairs, pausing only long enough to look at Fuku.

“Handle this mess while I take care of Iris.” Grillby said, certain that Fuku could do it. He wasn’t _totally_ confident in his newfound green magic abilities, but something was better than nothing. Fuku nodded and reached for the phone, Doggo not moving an inch in case the human tried to do anything. Grillby took the stairs two steps at a time and carefully set Iris down on the bed. He stared at his hands for a long moment, trying to recall the feeling of panic before stopping. That was an ‘in the moment’ sort of magic. Sudden, unexpected, but not something that can be easily replicated. Green magic had its root in _Kindness_ , Grillby knew. An emotion which was scarce in both himself and the underground. There was little wonder it was difficult for him to pull it off.

He wouldn’t be a very good suitor if he couldn’t even scrounge up enough _Kindness_ to help Iris feel better. It was a matter of pride that he gets this right… ah… that might be the problem. _Kindness_ wasn’t about himself or his pride. It was about other _people_ , something even those uppity mages knew back in the day. It might hurt his pride to not be able to help Iris get better _but what would happen besides that_? It was clear that whatever was wrong with her Soul was only getting worse, making it slow to accept healing magic—so he needed to make some potent green magic to counter it until Iris can be convinced to see a monster doctor. If he couldn’t at least apply a band aid solution _now_ … Iris may very well end up hospitalized. Something that she seemed terrified of. Dimly, Grillby recalled the fact that she’d been institutionalized before.

Grillby looked at Iris’ pale, bloody face and felt something in him go _cold_ at the thought of what might have happened. At how difficult it would be for Iris if she had to go _back_ to a medical environment with a possibly fatal condition. He grabbed a tissue with shaky hands and wiped her face gently. When she was relatively clean of blood he noticed how cold she was. Losing so much blood must be affecting her internal temperature. That’s something he can help with at least. He cupped her face with one hand and grabbed her right hand in his own, pressing it to his face to try and relieve the cold. Tomorrow, he’d call his sister so her Bonded could talk to Iris about courting… but right now he just wanted to help Iris get better.

Fueled by the gentle warmth of emotion in his chest—that slightly achy mixture of compassion and worry—green fire spread from his hands much stronger than before. Genuine desire to see Iris healthy created rich shades of green as they curled up her arm and around her face like vines. Grillby was silently amazed and felt more than saw an improvement in Iris’ condition. He chuckled softly and turned his head to press a kiss to her palm. Amazing what a little emotional honesty and reflection can accomplish.

\--that outsider perspective a little birdie asked for ;)—

Fuku calmed Missy down and reassured her of Iris’ safety, which was more difficult than she thought it would be. But Grillby never asked something of her if he didn’t think she could do it. This whole situation was rather bizarre. If Fuku didn’t grow up suspecting _everyone_ of bad intentions and hiding it behind a cheery smile, she’d think Iris’ convenient umbrella was just that. Convenient and a coincidence. But she largely suspected that there was something more to it. Not some evil plan to worm her way into the heart of the monster community—no, not that. But Iris definitely knew more than she was revealing, and it was _certainly_ connected with the odd nose bleeds. A few of the other patrons, like Dogamy, Dogaressa, and Doggo, had asked for her opinion on Iris. An opinion she stood by. Iris has good intentions, harbors no hatred of monsters, but is hiding something that’s possibly dangerous.

It really wasn’t a wonder that Grillby was interested, though the desire to court Iris was a surprise. Grillby always had a knack for spotting extraordinary talent. He also liked to harbor connections, which Iris seemed like a good contact to have. But in all her years, Fuku has never seen Grillby romantically interested in someone. Then again, all the monsters in the underground were stiff. Ready to fight at any moment and kill if needed, and as much as Grillby liked fighting, he’s never really enjoyed the overpowered fire magic he possessed. One wrong move and he could seriously hurt someone, despite his iron-hard control. It was weird that he desired someone who would willingly snap at him but wasn’t violent. Fuku also knew that Iris would be able to help Grillby with his closeted niceness—she noticed how eager Grillby was to help and coddle, as much as he tried to hide it. Despite how surprising it was that Grillby would like a _human_ so much, Fuku wasn’t very surprised at all by the end of the day. He grew up at a time it wasn’t that odd for a human-monster couple to exist in theory. And Iris and Grillby both needed someone to lean on and be needed by in turn. Doesn’t mean Fuku wasn’t frustrated at how much of an idiot Grillby was being about Courting. Did he even _tell_ Iris he was actually interested, or does he plan to flirt his way past the _first step to the whole tradition he swears by_? And was he going to call her mom to help explain it to Iris?

Honestly, Fuku’s uncle liked to think he was hot shit—pun not intended—but he was an absolute idiot at the worst times. At least he meant well.

\--Who’s Grillby’s sister/Fuku’s mom anyway?—

Grillby frowned at his phone, trying to think of a reason not to call despite having given up about an hour ago. Finally, he gave in and pressed hard on the button. Nervously, he brought the phone up to the side of his head and waited for the dial tone to end. It barely rang three times before she answered.

“What’d you do this time, brother mine?” Pyra asked in a darkly amused tone. Grillby sighed, his older twin was also too sharp for her own good.

“I need your Bonded to come explain Courting to someone.” Grillby cut right to the point, hoping to avoid any teasing.

“Ooooh, really now? I know it can’t be for Ollie so… Ah!” Pyra squealed happily, “ _You’ve_ found someone, really Grillby?” Grillby resisted the urge to throw his phone. He’d _never_ hear the end of this.

“Yes. She’s… she’s human though.” Grillby admitted, wanting to get it out in the open now. Pyra had nothing against humans, but there was some… wariness ever since the war. With the seeming disappearance of the mages, most of the animosity towards humans had died down in the monster community. Though plenty of humans had something to say about monsters regardless.

“Color me surprised! I’m sure my sweetie Goyle will be happy to explain everything.” Pyra offered easily before continuing, “Ooh, tell me what she’s like—no wait, don’t do that, I want to see for myself! I’ll see you soon, Grillby!” Pyra cackled happily before hanging up on him. With a great sigh, he put down his phone. No take backs now… he almost felt bad for Iris. Then he remembered that she’ll deal more with Goyle and he’d have to entertain Pyra. All the mercy he had died a swift death after that.

\--And now, Missy!—

It had been almost a whole day and Iris was still out of it. With BP’s help, Missy carried Iris home, and Missy really appreciated the cute kitty but couldn’t take her attention away from her sister. BP had hugged her before leaving, briefly distracting Missy from her sister’s condition. It felt… nice and comforting. The well-dressed cat was a bit snarky, but Missy could honestly say he had a good heart and she admired him for that.

At least Iris seemed to be a bit better. It’d been a long time since Missy had seen that much color in Iris’ complexion. Missy was fixing lunch when Iris finally stumbled into the shower. Despite really wanting to, Missy held back from storming in there to demand to know how Iris was feeling. When she finally went into the kitchen, Missy had a plate set out with a hearty lunch of grilled chicken and a salad at the ready. Iris looked at her curiously, face a soft red from the hot shower.

“Looks good, Missy… Ah…” Iris took a seat and just sat there for a moment before looking at Missy again, “Did we go to Grillby’s last night? And I passed out?” Missy sighed before taking her own seat.

“Yes, that was yesterday. You’ve been out since then, how are you feeling?” She asked, curious to know if the ‘green magic’ helped any.

“I actually… kind of do. I didn’t realize how cold I’ve been for a while now. But I sort of thought I’d wake up in the hospital?” Iris asked with a grimace. Missy shook her head, but her words were heavy in her throat. There wasn’t any good way to say it, was there?

“Ah, no. I know how much you don’t like going and… they wouldn’t be able to help you. I mean, a blood transfusion would do you some good, probably, but aside from that? Nothing.” Missy paused before continuing, not sure if Iris would believe her, “And Grillby said that the issue wasn’t with your body, but your _Soul_ , so you’d need to see a monster doctor.” There. That flicker of an expression on Iris’ face. Missy desperately wanted to know but was afraid to push the issue.

“…Y-Yeah, he’d brought it up before. Grillby I mean, but…” Iris seemed to be floundering for something to say. An excuse, perhaps. Instead she cut into the chicken and began eating. Missy had the grace and patience to wait until they were both done before confronting her.

“Iris. We’ve known each other for years. You’re a sister to me and always will be.” Iris looked apprehensive but Missy was on a roll, “I don’t want to push you to tell me, but I _know_ something is going on. You brought an umbrella to a bar on a clear day, which ended up being really useful. You’ve always sort of… just known things or been one step ahead. And I _think_ it has something to do with the bleeding.” Iris looked afraid.

“M-Missy… I-I…” Iris stuttered out but couldn’t bring herself to continue. In Missy’s head, things were beginning to connect. Missy had always known she was different… what if Iris was too?

“If it has something to do with a-a… an ability of some kind, you’re not alone! I’ve always had so much _energy_! People around me tire out less and heal faster than when I’m away. Noticeably so! I can’t control it, but I’ve never had a reason to.” Missy was grasping at straws, uncertain if she was just imagining things now, but Iris seemed to be surprised, “It doesn’t cost me anything to have this ability, but if I’m right, then yours takes so much from you! Whatever it is you do! You can’t keep going like this Iris, I get it if you’re afraid, but I am too! I-I… I can’t lose you like this.” Iris was speechless, tears cluttering her eyelashes. Iris sucked in a shuddering breath.

“I…” Iris gathered herself before nodding, “You’re right, Missy. I… I can’t keep going like this. But I can’t just tell people about it either!” Missy reached over and grabbed Iris’ hands.

“I’m with you all the way. Just… Just let me _help_ you!” Missy begged, now crying herself. Iris was crying too, pressing Missy’s hands to her mouth.

“Missy… I can see the future.” Iris admitted, body tense like she expected Missy to lash out. To abandon her, or possibly much worse, to _out_ her. Suddenly, Missy could understand Iris’ great reluctance about her Soul. But Iris wasn’t done yet. With a shuddering breath, she started to explain, “Several years ago, I kept having visions…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Someone finally knows! And it shouldn't be too long before Grillby pieces it together himself. It just felt right that Missy finally confronts Iris about it now, after this big scare and frankly suspicious behavior (Iris was NOT at the top of her game if she thought the umbrella wasn't noticeable). 
> 
> I have to ask though, what do you guys think of Grillby and Iris? It's been surprisingly difficult writing Grillby's confident-to-a-fault character (that leads him to forget 'small' things from time to time). And Iris is supposed to be resourceful but on-her-last-leg. The end goal is obviously for them to be together, but also to balance each other out a bit (and I think I'm weak for hardass dudes fawning over tiny but mighty love interests). Do you guys see that happening or do you feel like something here is missing? Because Grillby hasn't been able to fully get his suave on with Iris dodging his more noticeable attempts, so I'd understand if not all of you are totally sold on the concept yet. Just wondering before things REALLY kick into gear.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, feel free to comment here, on my Tumblr, or make a request over on my But Seriously, What If story (for non-story related requests)!


	10. Learning Corner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It get's a bit dry-ish in the middle here while explaining courting in full detail, just eh, fair warning.
> 
> And thoughtfully beta'd by FlamingoBlubber!

Missy was speechless and I couldn’t blame her. It sounded really crazy, even in my head. And I probably shouldn’t have mentioned what got me institutionalized in the first place. Constant switching visions between monsters leaving a mountain kingdom and what felt like the end of all things. With my lack of control, these two visions overtook me and quickly got me hospitalized for anemia over several weeks. From there, they concluded that my mental health took a bad turn as well due to the ‘nightmares’ and continued uncontrollable nose bleeds.

“Oh my god, I-Iris, I had no idea…” Missy whispered as she shakily drew me into a hug, “I… remember hearing about _him_ on the news. He was a fairly big name in the medical community, or at least his father was.” I couldn’t help the tremble that left me, something Missy noticed.

“C-Can we not… talk about that? I just… I really don’t want to.” I breathed into her hair, easily picking up on the scent of maple from her shampoo. Missy nodded into my shoulder.

“Of course! But… we really need to do something about your gift. From what it sounds like, it activates without your prompting when something important to you, or even yourself, is threatened. A sort of warning system, which is nice and all but since the future changes so often…” Missy sighed, “And not all threats are equal anyway.”

“I can’t really stop them when they come. I get lost in what I see, or experience… The best I can do is hold them off. And I have no control when I sleep.” I admitted reluctantly, not moving from her embrace. Missy sighed, her hand rubbing my back in soothing motions.

“I totally get not wanting to go to a hospital, and not wanting to see a doctor, but Iris… I really think you should see a monster doctor. Surely they’ve had experience with wild magic powers? Some sort of… I don’t know, training thing to help control their magic?” My breath hitched but I knew she was right.

“I-I know but… I can see the future, Missy. I don’t think that’s a common ability.” Missy nodded in agreement and pulled back to look at me.

“You’re right but… I guess I can ask around— _discreetly_ —about magic ability control and training. At the very least B.P. should be able to clear up patient confidentiality to me.” Missy declared, “One way or another, I will _find_ a solution for you, Iris. I promise.” Missy’s dark eyes lit up with determination. A horrible knot lodged into my throat. When I tried to say something—anything—no words left me. Tears obscured my vision as I buried my face into Missy’s shoulder. She didn’t say anything, simply letting me cry into her shirt while she rubbed circles on my back.

\--Meet the power couple—

It was a little odd, returning to Grillby’s bar after what happened two days ago. But Missy was excited to start ‘bugging’ B.P. about magic in a relaxed setting. Apparently, the realization that she also had some sort of magic was a recent discovery, so if need be, she was willing to shield my magic secret with her own. I was glad that she didn’t connect any dots and ask why I came home so beat up after saving B.P. The last thing I wanted was to make her feel like a relationship with B.P. was inevitable simply because I saw it. I made sure he lived to meet her, the rest is up to them. They both deserve that much respect, at the very least.

I was a little surprised to see two new monsters sitting at the bar. The one closest to B.P. was tall but lithe, a soft cream-colored polo exposing surprisingly muscular arms. He was seemingly a teal moss-covered tree in a somewhat humanoid shape. A pair of branching horns reached back and supported an outcropping of thick leaves—rather like those pale pink and green succulent plants Missy wanted to get a few weeks back—that did a fine job of mimicking spiked hair. He raised his hand in a casual gesture, clearly enjoying a conversation with Fuku, revealing hands structured more closely to what I’d imagine a dragon’s claws to be like. If that dragon was made of a living tree.

His companion was seated on the opposite side of B.P. and easily lit up the room by several degrees. Dressed to the nines in a tight black skirt, sheet leggings—which honestly looked incandescent from the nature of her flaming body—, black high heels, and a soft orange peasant top with sleeves that exposed her ‘forearms’, this new fire monster looked hot. Every pun intended. Rather than bright blue like Fuku or purple like Grillby, this new monster was a bright incandescent yellow, though I spotted orange flickering through the cascade of fire running down her back out of a golden… hair tie perhaps, that rested high on the back of her head. It looked rather like a wild overflow of curly hair, shape ever shifting but certainly keeping up the appearance of curls despite all logic. Glancing up I couldn’t help but snort. For some reason, Grillby looked like he was sulking over the banister as he glared at the newbies.

“Yo, B.P., what’s up?” Missy asked loudly, drawing attention to herself with the usual amount of confidence. B.P. smiled over his shoulder before he even looked at us, but he seemed particularly relieved when he saw me. Probably happy that I’m not dead or something, which was actually kind of reassuring.

“Missy, Iris, this is Goyle and his Bonded, Pyra. Pyra is Grillby’s older twin sister.” B.P. introduced the both of them, “Goyle, Pyra, this is Missy and Iris, I’m pretty sure you’ve heard about them a bit by now.” B.P. chuckled as Pyra snorted, the sound sudden and not unlike a crackle.

“Yes, we have. My little Bee has been quite worried!” I frowned in confusion at Pyra’s statement until I heard Grillby growl above our heads, “But I suppose telling you all about his embarrassing childhood escapades can wait! Goyle in particular has been wanting to talk to you about something, if it’s not a bother, dearie.” Pyra smoothly inclined her head towards Goyle, who grinned softly over his shoulder.

“About what? We literally just met.” I muttered, pushing away the vision that attempted to enlighten me. It was easier than usual, probably because of how healthy I am right now.

“Can’t a man offer his thanks for saving his only daughter?” Goyle playfully grumbled, his voice much lower than I expected. I sighed and nodded my head, figuring that it wouldn’t take very long. Then something occurred to me.

“Ah! Then you’re her mom?” I looked over at Pyra, whose cackle honestly reminded me of those old cartoon characters who were quite wealthy. She even covered her mouth with the back of her hand for all of the three seconds she laughed. Thankfully it wasn’t grating, but I was a little surprised to actually hear someone laugh like that in reality.

“Yes, my darling little sparkler wanted to help her uncle after she graduated and who was I to deny her?” Pyra tittered in amusement which seemed to drag a deep sigh from Grillby and only a soft blush of white from Fuku.

“Mother… please don’t call me that.” Fuku requested as Goyle stood up and walked over to an empty booth, motioning for me to follow. I waved Missy away so she could chat with B.P. as I sat across from Goyle. Goyle’s features were surprisingly cat-like, if you excused the lack of fur, and even had burning orange eyes. His ears were more elfin than cat like though, which explained why they were easily hidden beneath his horns.

“Firstly, I must apologize for the deception. Though I do still want to thank you for protecting my daughter, there was something else I wanted to speak to you about.” Goyle bowed his head slightly in apology as though moving to sit in a booth across from him was really that bad of a hardship.

“Uhm… what about?” I asked, feeling a little nervous. Was it horrible?

“My darling spark says that you don’t know anything about courting, correct? Monster courting, that is?” He asked.

“Ah… no. I wasn’t even aware that there was a practice for it… though it makes sense that you would have different customs.” I answered sheepishly, though I did wonder where this was going.

“That is alright. Most of the old ways died out after we were sealed underground. It’s a lot more… informal than before. There aren’t hard social steps that need to be taken to be appropriate.” Goyle answered, “To be honest, if Grillby wasn’t so old, this likely wouldn’t even come up.”

“Huh? He’s old? I mean… I didn’t think he spawned into existence when I met him or anything but… what does any of this have to do with me?” I asked, an idea slowly forming in my head. I knew he was interested—though that seemed to lead to bad places, but it wasn’t really his fault anyway—but this was starting to sound a lot more serious than flirtation.

“Grillby, and by extension Pyra, were born before the great war. Not by a lot, mind you, but long enough that they were what humans would consider teens when the war started. As such, they were raised on the customs of our people, long ago. They’ve probably dropped a lot of the older ways, but courting was a big deal back then. In this one way, they will not bend. Please hear me out first, since I know that you may not feel these kinds of emotions for Grillby.” Goyle asked. I could only nod mutely so he could continue.

\--This is all basically exposition—

Before we talk about courting, I should probably brief you a bit on ‘dominant’ and ‘submissive’ monsters. It’s not a hard and fast line or dictated by gender, just a general tendency to either ‘charge in’ or ‘wait and see’, which translate very broadly to how they handle courting. Suitors are typically dominant, for example, which will make a bit more sense in context. It’s… a bit different from what you humans have associated with these terms, but I’m not really aware of all the details to explain more. But most don’t talk about this aspect unless they’ve studied it and it really won’t affect courting any. Most are rather embarrassed to be referred to these titles, actually, since for some it implies more feral instinct.

Anyway, what you really need to know is that courting comes in steps. A suitor needs to clearly want to engage in courting before anything can begin, and then they must approach the other and clearly state their intentions. This is where the person can reject the suit, which requires the suitor to back off for a certain period of time. How long depends on how harsh the rejection, if others are also interested, and both of their stations. For you and Grillby, assuming you didn’t threaten to drown him or something—and that you have no other dating prospects right now—I would say about a month. Rejection can occur at any stage, but the first stage is easier since no other parties are involved and there are no illusions of promise.

The second stage of courting essentially involves the suitor gaining the approval of the other’s family—or baring that, close friends—to prove how serious they are. This also ensures that plenty are aware of their ongoing courting so there isn’t a high chance of a suitor attempting to court many different people at the same time. And it also ensures that there are a few who are willing to chaperone the third stage. Chaperones are usually only really required to if the two go somewhere private unless one or both are of a high class to ensure good behavior of both parties.

The third stage of courting is a mix of getting to know each other and proving yourself. The suitor is expected to be the first to prove themselves in each step, but it’s not unusual for the courted to do so instead. Three things are expected to be shown off. The ability to provide—financially, food-wise, or other, so long as the suitor doesn’t falsify a way of life they cannot provide or don’t have to as honesty is key. The ability to care and keep safe—a good bonded will care for you in every aspect possible and should be demonstrated at all stages in some way but isn’t dependent on the other two things. The third thing a suitor or courted needs to prove is that they are worthy—this can be achieved in any way and is a highly emotional stage. Typically for monsters it involves exposing their Soul for emphasis and to underline how they feel. While failure to prove any of these three things is grounds for breaking a courtship, it usually depends on the couple if they do. Not everyone bathes in riches or basks in the confidence necessary to boldly declare they are worthy of love, but that doesn’t exclude them from the right to experience it.

The fourth stage is the final stage. Bonding. In this stage, the two—or more, though a group bonding is exceedingly rare—exchange a sample of their magic and Soul with the other. By accepting all that the other is, it becomes permanent. Monsters typically have small celebrations when they successfully Bond, but not quite like humans do. No one is to be there when the two Bond since it is a private event and no higher authority can declare it void, though Bonding is recognized by law as binding as marriage. For monsters at least, I’m uncertain if it has been tested in court for human-monster Bonded.

\--Exposition over!—

I was still speechless by the time he finished explaining everything. I looked down at my hands and tried to think. There was so much to break down. I idly wondered if any monsters proud of their submissive or dominant title were shocked to find out about the BDSM association with humans. I’m glad I wasn’t drinking anything when he mentioned that, otherwise I may have spat out my drink…

“Wait… why are _you_ telling me this? I get why Grillby isn’t, it would sound really pretentious if he explained how he expected me to act and behave but…” I furrowed my brows at Goyle.

“It’s technically not proper for an intended suitor or their close family to explain courting in the rare instance that the other isn’t aware of it.” Goyle chuckled, “And Grillby tends to be a bit hard-headed, so it took him a while to realize that he was interested, and even _longer_ to remember that _you wouldn’t even know what courting was like for monsters_. So, declaring his intent to court would have went right over your head. To try and court someone who didn’t even know what it was? A massive faux pas, even if almost no one alive now follows it.” I wasn’t sure how to handle the information I’d been given. I did have one question though.

“Isn’t it… improper, given the age difference between us?” I asked, almost wishing that he’d say yes so I could have a hard reason to reject Grillby’s ‘official’ courting offer. Goyle laughed.

“Well, if you were both human, perhaps. But monsters age a bit differently than humans. And some monsters have expected life spans even more drastic than others. As an elemental monster, Grillby doesn’t quite age physically like more… corporal monsters do. A fire elemental in particular only does when they _want_ to, or if their ‘core’ is extinguished by a sufficiently powerful outside force. And the older a fire elemental gets, the more damage their core can take.” Goyle shook his head, “Sorry, rambled a bit there. But what I mean to say is that monsters measure age not by body, but by Soul and magic maturation, which is directly connected to their Soul. Grillby is really more of the equivalent of… maybe a human in his late twenties? Maybe thirties if you stretch it, but things like this is what courting is for.”

“Uh… how so?” I asked, curious even though I wasn’t sure how much more information I could take in one night.

“Well, with watchful chaperones, drastic differences in emotional maturity will be spotted pretty easily, you know? No one wants someone who is really more like a child to Bond with a fully-grown monster. They risk warping their Soul and the Bond if they do, since the younger member will try to mature at a fast rate to equalize the ‘pressure’ so to speak within the bond.” Goyle explained and I could only nod and croak out an agreeable sound.

“Uhuh…” Definitely a lot to take in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoy the concept of the power couple that is Pyra and Goyle. And this chapter provides some additional context to what some of you may remember from Colorful as Hell (Gaster explaining sex ed for monsters basically). Basically, Gaster's a bit of a weirdo who actually studied that shit, so he definitely appreciates the neat boxes of 'submissive' and 'dominant'. In the future, prepare for plenty of teasing Grillby for being a total idiot and mixing up his own instincts. 
> 
> I'm super tired, so Imma pass out after I post this. As always, I welcome your feedback, comments, and requests! You all should be familiar with my little spiel by now so feel free drop off some love here or on my Tumblr! ;)


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